Never Give All the Heart
by Moviefanatic2.0
Summary: Takes place after the season finale. Derek Wills is very much the dictating, womanizing director everyone makes him out to be, but when he is rejected by Karen, is it wrong that he can't let her go? Is it wrong if it's love? My first Smash fic!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! This is my first attempt at a Smash fic, but I just had to write something after seeing the finally of the first season! The show is really spectacular, and I have no idea how I'm going to be able to wait until February to see it again! Even though I wasn't at first, I am not absolutely in love with the idea of Derek and Karen, and seeing all the other stories on this page, I just had to right my own! So for now, I will satisfy my Smash craving with FanFiction. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Smash, or any of its wonderful characters!**

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Derek lay back on his hotel bed, resting his head against the pillows and smiling and slow, content smile. Everything had gone perfectly, exactly according to the plan he had constructed in his own mind. The stage and set had been perfect, the musical numbers had been spot on, and the blocking and scenes had been simply fantastic. In short, the show had gone splendidly. _His_ show had gone splendidly, and all boiling down to the work of their star. His star.

Karen Cartwright. He closed his eyes, his lips quirking into and even larger smile, and rubbed his thumb across his forehead. They had all doubted him; Julia, Tom, and most certainly Eileen, but tomorrow he would make every last one of them eat their words. From the reaction of the audience to the beaming smiles on the faces of every member of the cast, it was unquestionable that she had been simply sensational. And all thanks to his work.

If it had not been for him, she would never have even made it into the ensemble. He had suggested to Tom and Julia that if there were to be some complications with Ivy, they needed a suitable replacement, and 'this Cartwright girl' was exactly what they would need. Whether or not he had assisted in bringing about the so-called complications Ivy had faced has unclear to him, and even less clear was whether or not his meddling had been intentional.

If it had not been for his own little hallucinations, he may never have seen her as Marilyn. Though shocking, rather sensual fantasies where not exactly the healthiest form of realization, he knew as soon as he saw her that it was meant to be. It had been no coincidence that when he had found her, gently coaxed her from the corner of the dressing room and respectfully left her to change he had handed her _that_ purple dress. And when she emerged, back upright and eyes alive, it took more then a comfortable amount of restraint to not flash back to those moments, weeks and days earlier.

And if it weren't for him, she would not have been on that stage the night before. Well, truthfully she would have been, but not the way she should have been, not the way she was meant to be. Karen Cartwright was not a chorus girl; she was not a member of an ensemble. She could be, if she needed to be, but there was too much in her to hold her back like that. Ivy, with her headstrong exterior and crumbling, desperate interior, she was a member of the chorus. Sure, she had some of the qualities of a star, but she had never shone the way Karen had on that stage and in rehearsal, even before she donned the wig and makeup. Where Ivy was master of the trade, burying her emotions until they exploded in a pent up burst of Prednisone, Karen's feelings are raw and sharp, cutting through the scenes and pouring from her as she sings. Everything about her had been remarkable, and the show couldn't have asked for anything more.

And yet, everything was not quite right, and there still seemed to be something nagging at him and pulling at the back of his mind, specifically two young women. Firstly, Ivy. Though was one hundred percent certain in his choice for Marilyn, there was a small part of him that felt sad for Ivy, left yet again for the ensemble. In all honesty, she was not a star; she had spent too much time living in her mother's shadow and following the sickening, convoluted path toward Broadway for that to be the case. Yet still, he felt a twinge of regret confining her to the shadow selves and the back up dancers. She had more talent then that, but she simply was not talented enough.

He had been rather brutally honest with her about his reasons for choosing Karen, but he wasn't about to sugar coat it for her and get her hopes up. She did not have that indiscernible star quality that Karen commanded, and that was simply a statement of fact. Still, when he had heard a commotion from the dressing rooms at the end of the show, and seen the worry on the faces of Tom and Sam, he had half-heartedly wondered if she really could take it. But then, he had been swept up in the sea of attendees and cast members and producers and investors, all forming a celestial mass around their central, glowing star.

And the second young woman, of course, was Ms. Cartwright. 'The Cartwright girl', as endearing as the term was meant to be, was highly unfitted for the magnificent human being he saw through the crowd, beaming and accepting hugs of congratulation with easy grace. She was undoubtedly a woman, a member of the theater, and glorious Marilyn when she stepped out onto that stage. And as he though of her, his forehead began to furrow, and his smiled subsided slightly.

Her innocence and wonder had been her driving force so far; he could see it in look in her when she rushed backstage after each scene and the light of emotion was still glinting in her eyes. When she was out there, she was barely acting; she was simply being, magnifying her emotions and casting them out into the audience. Thank god she was so terrific, her vulnerability when she exited the stage and listened for the applause left him nearly terrified for her, which was saying something. But, he realized, his fear wasn't that she might break down here, that she might sabotage everything and ruin the show. No, it was fear that took root somewhere deep inside him, that the world of theater might hurt her, that it might seriously damage who she was.

And it had already had some type of affect on her. Though he didn't know the full story, he had seen her with the idiot Dev, something shining and glinting in her hand, the look on her face of utter horror and despair. And he had seen her at her lowest moment yet, huddled behind the racks of clothing, Marilyn entirely discarded behind her, those big, brown eyes shining with tears. And it hadn't been the show that had drove him to find her, though he used that as a cover. He knew that at that moment, he should have turned to Ivy as the other's had, and asked her to step in. He knew that it was unfair of him to ask this much of Karen, especially if she was in a fragile state, and it almost pained him to do it.

But, he also knew that she had more in her then any of them could see. He knew when she had stepped on stage from the very first note of "Let Me Be Your Star", and throughout the entire show, he had seen the heartbreak, the happiness and the longing in her eyes. And anyways, it had done him some good to tell off Dev, the little prick, for whatever he had done to her. She was his now, it was true.

But that statement, he thought, as Derek repositioned the pillow under his head, held more meaning to it then he may have initially considered. If anything, it sounded more romantic then not, and while he was unsure what he had intended it to mean, part of him hoped Dev had understood it as such. Derek rubbed his fingers into his eyes and starred at the ceiling, following the twisting pattern with his eyes.

In any case, he had said far too many confusing things that night the take any of them into consideration at the moment. Unbidden, their small moment before the final number rose to his mind, eliciting a tiny smile as the corner of his mouth pricked upwards. Yes, even now he could remember the way his hands had felt, one on the small of her back, the other closing the final fastening of the snug gold dress. And he remember the way her muscles had stiffened, tensed, and relaxed only slightly when he moved his hands to rest on her waist. He remembered being close behind her, feeling her pounding heartbeat even through the space between them, and he remembered the nagging urge to close that space, to wrap his arms around her.

He remembered her eyes, wide with innocence as he whispered to her in the dark, in their moment of solitude and silence, and despite the meaning his words carried, he could easily recall the empty, aching feeling in his stomach. Those were not the words he wanted to say. True, she was a star, and she should have no doubt in her mind that this was exactly who she was meant to be, but something in the sentences seemed empty, as he knew he had used them too many times before. He had used them on Ivy, and on Rebecca, and on countless other would-be stars before them, and had undoubtedly brought him any wonderful nights, but he realized now that such desires were not what he wanted from Karen. That it was something bigger, something deeper down, buried inside him.

Sure, if he had the opportunity, he would fall into bed with her without a second thought. And when she had walked out on stage in her underwear, it was all he could do to not smile any wider then he already had. Yet still, there was something different in the way he felt about her, something only explained in the last sentence he had spoken to her before she emerged on stage. And at the thought of what he'd said, his stomach flipped in a way far to characteristic of a small schoolboy, and he felt his palms begin to perspire. Because maybe that was why he had pushed Ivy away so forcefully when he knew Karen could take her place. Maybe that was why he felt such a nagging emptiness when he lay beside Rebecca for those several nights. Maybe that was why he chose Karen over Ivy, because he loved-

There was a sharp, loud knocking on his door, affectively stabbing into his train of though and snapping his eyes open. He scowled, muttering under his breath and picked himself up slowly off the bed. Fixing his hair for a second in the mirror, he put on his best bored and annoyed face as he swung the door and opened his mouth to speak-

And Karen Cartwright stood there, her coat wrapped around her shoulders and her hair only slightly damp from the evident rain outside. Her studded purse hung limply from her shoulder, and in either hand she held a small travel bag. He shoulders sagged as she stood there, tiny drops of water dripping from her luggage, and her eyes red rimmed and swollen, shining with tears.

Derek swallowed slowly, and starred at her.

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**So there it is, chapter one! Chapter two will be up soon, but pretty, pretty please leave a review! It will make it come even sooner!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two! Thanks so, so, so much to the people who review/ favorited/ added this story! It really means so much to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you! So here's the second chapter, now from Karen's perspective. It might seem a little disjointed, but this ones a bit more about the dialogue, with more thoughts and feelings later. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Theresa Rebeck.**

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Both of them stood there for a moment, watching one another, and Karen saw Derek swallow several times. He raised a hand and leaned it against the doorframe, his eyes not leaving hers, and Karen suddenly realized what an idiot she was. She never should have come; he was undoubtedly very busy, or at least working, and here she was, showing up unannounced at his door. With her overnight bags in tow, she could only imagine what purpose he might think she had in mind, and seemed far less innocent then she had intended. She frowned, renewed tears poking at the corners of her eyes, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. She was about to turn and leave when he spoke:

"Oh darling," He spoke quietly, his voice filled with sympathy and sadness, and her gaze shot up to meet his, searching his face. It held no trace of sarcasm, and Karen was reminded of the way he had looked at her when he had found her in the dressing room. An expression quite different from any he had ever worn during rehearsal, he gave her the smallest of smiles as he looked at her. And yet, a sob still clogged her throat.

"Can I come in?" She choked, and she tried her best to hold in the tears, one slipping out and making its way down her face.

"Of course," Derek angled his body and opened the door, allowing her to enter easily. Not sure whether to claim her bags or not, he turned just as she was setting them down at the foot of the bed and sitting herself on the mattress. She sat on the very edge of the bed, knees pressed together, back stiff, her mouth a hard line. Slowly, she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and took several deep breaths. Derek watched her from a little ways away, leaning against the wall by the door with his hands in his pockets. A breeze fluttered through the window, and Karen clasped her hands.

"Dev was sleeping with Ivy," Karen said very suddenly, looking directly at him. Derek raised an eyebrow but did not break eye contact. "Or at least they slept together, a few days ago."

There was a short silence, and Karen looked at the carpet. "I'm sorry to hear that." Derek's words were sincere, and Karen shrugged in response. "Did he know her?" Derek's question was forward and direct, and Karen nodded.

"I mean, he'd never met her, but he knew who she was. It wasn't an accident." Karen took another deep breath.

"And Ivy?"

"She knew," Karen let out a little laugh. "I assume she must have known, she said she was drunk but-"

Derek interrupted. "_She_ told you?" Karen looked back at the director, a kind of incredulity on his face. Karen nodded.

"Well yes, of course she did." Karen clenched and unclenched her hands. "She was upset that I got the part, so she played her cards."

"Wait," Derek moved across the room and sat beside her on the bed. Karen moved unconsciously to make room for him. "When did she tell you this?"

Karen swallowed. "Earlier yesterday, before I-" She broke eye contact and starred at the floor. "Before I got upset. That's what I was angry about."

There was a short silence, and Karen looked back up at Derek. He was smiling a sad, twisted smile. "You know," He finally spoke. "If there's anything about theater I hate, it's this." He gestured enigmatically with his hands, starring across the room. "People can't just bloody well put their personal feelings aside and live for it as art."

"Well that's what you do, isn't it?" Karen hadn't meant it to sound so sharp, but once she had said it, she realized it had stung him. "Sorry, I-"

"No, you're right," Derek looked back at her. "Which is why I can even stand to do my job. We're not there to work out our relationships or our problems. It isn't therapy."

"You already said that," Derek smiled a small, lopsided smile, and Karen laughed slightly.

"Well, because it's true. Ivy may have thought she had broken you, but if anything, she made your performance all the more spectacular." Karen blushed slightly, but did her best to hide it by rubbing the tears from her eyes. Derek watched her for a moment in confortable silence. "And Dev?"

"Sorry?" Karen asked, her mind having wandered slightly.

"The boyfriend," Derek repeated. "How did he feel?"

"Well," Karen bit her lip, taking a moment to think, and then continued. "He knew who she was too, I'm sure. He's been apologizing, but I don't feeling like it can ever be . . . the same again." She trailed off, turning her attention away from him and towards the wall. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, studying her, and almost immediately she felt a flutter of nerves in her chest, and confusing mix of comfort and agitation. How could she be in Derek's hotel room of all people, talking to _him_ about all of this? More and more, she was beginning to regret her decision to come. Maybe she should leave-

"Why?" Derek finally said, and she looked at him to find his face slightly apologetic. "Why would he do that? I don't want to pry, but-"

"It's alright," Karen wiped her eyes with her fingers even though the tears had long evaporated. "It had a lot to do with the show, really. He was at work, and I was at rehearsal, and we just started to grow apart. Then he came down here to Boston about a week ago and asked me to marry him-"

For a split second, Karen thought she heard an intake of breath from Derek's direction, but when she looked up, his face was inscrutable.

"And when I said I wasn't sure he proceeded to tell me that he almost slept with his secretary but that he wanted to be with me forever," Derek sat back a little and crossed his arms, his face portraying an emotion Karen couldn't quite place.

"So what did you do?" Derek asked, his mouth dropping into a frown.

"I screamed at him," Karen's gaze remained locked on something far away. "I told him I couldn't make a decision like that right now, especially if he was cheating on me. And then he-" and here she chocked on her words, biting her lip and blinking slowly as the tears returned, and Derek rested his hands on his knees.

"He slept with Ivy," Karen nodded and looked down at her feet. She tapped her fingers together slowly, and Derek pushed himself steadily to his feet.

"Then he came back. He said he'd been in New York, and I apologized for everything," Karen let out a humorless laugh. "I apologized for _everything_, over and over again." Derek continued to watch her, and Karen let her shoulders relax slightly. "I said yes then, to his proposal, and we agreed to get married. I don't know if he was going to tell me, but then Ivy got to it first."

Karen sighed and looked up at the director, but Derek was not meeting her gaze. Leaning yet again against the wall, his eyes starred thoughtfully across the room. After a moment, he made his way toward the small fridge on the other side of the bed.

"Do you want a drink?" Derek asked, pulling a soda out of the fridge and frowning at it.

"I'm fine, thank you." Ever polite, Karen smiled slightly and looked back at her feet. Derek continued to remain silent, and Karen felt a bubble of anger in her chest. She had just revealed a rather touchy part of her life to him, and he was just going to act like it hadn't happened?

"Why are you telling me this?" The question wasn't rude, it was simply direct, and Karen felt her anger deflate. She frowned, her mind searching for a viable reply.

"What do you mean?"

"You have Jessica, Bobby, the other members of the cast," Only slightly surprised that he could name the members of the ensemble, Karen watched as Derek crossed the room and came to stand directly in front of her. He looked down at her, searching her face, and Karen could tell that if she stood up, they would be pressed against each other. She shivered slightly, though she didn't know why. "You even have Julia, or Tom, or Eileen. Why are you telling me this?"

His face wasn't hostile, his presence nothing more then simply curious, but his eyes were alive as he looked at her. Rather then feeling uncomfortable, Karen felt rather comforted, yet she was still on edge. She looked up at him, her gaze unwavering.

"I thought you wanted to know," Karen said shortly. "You asked me what was wrong earlier."

"I asked you, as a director, what was wrong with you, as my star," The way he said _my_, made Karen frown, but she felt a shiver flow down her spine. "I then told you that in all honest it didn't matter."

"I thought you might want to know what was wrong with _your star_." She said hotly, he anger starting to get the better of her. She had thought Derek might care, might understand in a way that other people wouldn't, but apparently not. She didn't want sympathy and pity, but she also didn't want his passive annoyance. She didn't know what she had expected, what she had wanted from him, but it wasn't this. She scowled.

"Oh course I do, but that's not why you came," Derek looked at her, not seeming to hear her anger. "You wanted me to know about you."

"Well so what if I did!" Karen pushed herself to her feet, and Derek took the tiniest of steps back. They were face to face now, and in her heels Karen was nearly as tall as he was. She did not drop her gaze. "And I thought you might care, alright? I thought you might care outside of the rehearsal, outside of the performance, but apparently not."

She glowered at him, but Derek kept his face as straight as possible. It may have been her own imagination, but she thought she saw pain in his eyes. "Of course I care darling." He stated matter-of-factly, and his eyes scoured her face as he spoke. Karen shook her head.

"You know what, it doesn't matter," She began to reach down for her bag, forcing Derek even farther away. "I thought you might be different, but obviously you _don't _understand love-"

Very suddenly, she felt a tender grip on her arm, fingers soft and warm against her skin. It felt nothing like in rehearsal, when he led her through the blocking with his fingers around her bicep. This touch was softer, gentler, and as she looked back at him, she saw his eyes seemed almost as surprised as hers. But then they moved from his hand and met her gaze, and there was a kind of sparkle in them. He did not relinquish her upper arm.

"Why are you here?" Derek looked at her, his dark eyes brooding, his voice longing for the answer he knew he wouldn't get. Karen looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Why are your bags here?"

"Because I was at Dev's," Karen starred directly back, and neither of their expressions changed. "I was staying in his hotel room this week, and I went and picked up my stuff today. He didn't want me to leave."

"Did he hurt you?" The look in Derek's eyes was of such anger, that Karen almost shrunk back, but she shook her head slowly.

"No, I'm fine," She spoke quietly, and Derek's expression relaxed. Almost unconsciously, her rubbed his finger along the skin of her arm.

"I still owe him a punch, you know love?" Derek flashed her a smile, and Karen returned a small one, slightly confused. The director's abrupt mood swings were doing nothing to stabilize the beating of her heart. She realized now that he had raised a hand and wrapped it around her waist. His fingers graved across the small of her back.

"Right," Karen cringed. She sounded like a breathless idiot. What the hell was she doing? Her body was pressed against his; she could feel his heartbeat in her chest. There faces, while not touching, were close, and she could smell him, a scent of hair gel and faint cologne. She swallowed and blinked several times

"Where are you going to go?" Derek said quietly, and Karen knew what he meant. She blinked again, and tried to stay in control. She could feel his breathing, hot and labored as his chest rose and fell rapidly, and she kept her own breaths quiet and even.

"To Jessica's. I'm staying with her until we go back to New York." Karen answered easily, her eyes still not leaving his. They bored into hers, but somehow, his gaze seemed to go passed even as it met hers. They were very, very close, and Karen watched as Derek leaned in, moving his hand from her arm and up to her shoulder. His head leaned passed hers until his lips were next to her ear, and he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"Will you stay?" And for a moment the question rang in her head, and Karen was bewildered and uncertain and confused, and a part of her wanted to say yes more badly then anything in the world. But then she remembered her place. This was Derek she was talking to, Derek who was holding her to him. Derek, the womanizing, tyrannical director, who slept with every star and every woman he could get his hands on. Derek, who'd lured her into his home and onto the casting couch before she'd even begun to experience the world of Broadway. But he'd apologized for that-

She pushed him away, forcefully, sending him stumbling back several paces and very nearly into the wall. Both of their chests were heaving, though Karen marked hers down more to anger then anything else. She felt the prick of tears again in the corners of her eyes, but pushed them away. Derek looked at her, slightly stunned, though his face held almost entirely a look of apology and other desperation.

"Karen, Karen I'm so sorry," Ignoring him, Karen reach down and grabbed her bags. "Karen that's not what I me-"

"I know exactly what you meant, Derek," Karen spat, but the tears were coming now, think and fast. The same terrible ripping sensation pulled at her chest, just as it had when she sat down in the dressing room and found the ring. "I'm not as naïve as you seem to think, and I'm not going to be just another woman in your bed." She turned for the door, but Derek was directly beside her. She rested her hand on the doorknob.

"Karen, that's not what I wanted to say!"

"I thought you cared, Derek," Her voice wasn't loud, her soft and angry as she continued to fight the tears. "I thought maybe you were different."

"Karen-" But it was too late, and his words muffled as she slammed the door behind her. Forcing herself not to look back, she walked off down the hall towards the elevator.

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**Chapter two is now complete! Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and favorited the last chapter, please review again if you are so inclined! That would be simply wonderful!**


	3. Chapter 3

**And now, chapter three! Oh my goodness, thank you so, so, so, so, so, much to everyone who has review and favorited and followed this story. I know I said that last time, and I will continue to say it every chapter in the future, but you are all extremely wonderful. Seriously, 26 reviews on a two-chapter story? You are going to drive me insane with happiness. THANK YOU! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Smash, or any of its incredible-ness.**

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_Karen pulled her small suitcase out from under the bed, throwing it on top of the bed and flinging it open. The small bags were nearly half full, clothes spilling out as she rummaged through it with a kind of detached anger. Grabbing two larger, men's shirts and a pair of pants, she tossed them unceremoniously across the room and onto the opposite bed before reaching down to grab her other bag from beside his._

_Once satisfied that her suitcases no longer held any remnants of Dev, she proceeded to move about the room, picking up her clothes and extricating them from folded piles where they lay with his. Despite her air of disinterest, hot, angry tears poured from her eyes and down her cheeks, not nearly the kind that drip from your cheeks in a drop of sadness, but the ones that stick to your face, burning against your skin like acid. She pulled a shirt beneath one of Dev's sweaters and shoving it into her bag._

_Sure now that she now had all of her clothing, she headed for the bathroom, snatching up a smaller travel bag and stuffing it with makeup, toothbrush, other essentials. Taking extra care not to grab anything of his, she worked less hastily and more methodically as she scoured the small side room, and after that, the closet, and finally a closing sweep of the entire room._

_Once finished, she proceeded to upend her purse onto the center of the mattress, watching as the contents tumbled across the horridly floral comforter. An here, her fingers slowed to a crawl, deftly extracting each piece of him from the last part of her, at lease until they returned to New York. But for to moment, it was enough, and she gently set aside a small, scrawled note from the bottom of her bag. Several bent photographs, a pair of earrings, a tattered curry recipe, and various joint travel tickets later, a small, neat pile rested on the pillow she had slept on just the previous night. The only thing she kept was her key –she would need it to retrieve her things when _Bombshell_ returned- and then there was the box._

_She sat on the edge of the bed now, clutching it in her hands, simply starring at its empty, velvet interior. She was tempted to run her fingers across it, but resisted, instead wiping the corners of her eyes in an effort to occupy herself. The tears had slowed, perhaps even stopped, it was difficult to tell and Karen very honestly didn't care at the moment. She watched the tiny box move in her fingers, catching the light, and she imagined how the ring might glint if it were still there. If it still meant anything. _

_Disgusted, she snapped the box shut, extracting the hotel room key from her pocket and pocket and setting both the on the bedside table as she turned to gather her bags. _It doesn't matter_ she told herself firmly. _None of it matters anymore. Nothing could ever be the same. _Throwing on her coat, she scooped her purse over her shoulder, fastening the zipper on her last bag. _I'll show him I don't need him. I don't care about him anymore, I don't need him anymore, I don't want him anym-

_The door swung open, accompanied by a rather delayed clicking as the lock retracted. He stood there in the doorway, and for a moment his expression was neutral, the same as it had been everyday when he came home. But this time, she didn't smile back, and his face quickly fell as he seemed to remember. The air inside the room was thick and suffocating, and Dev almost unconsciously let the door swing closed behind him. _

_They stood across the room from each other, Dev's eyes sweeping her cold stance and her loaded arms, one bag in each hand, and Karen left her eye locked on his face. Her lower lip quivered, but she took a deep breath, fighting against the pain that radiated through her chest. Dev opened his mouth very suddenly, then closed it again, and closed his eyes and furrowed his brow before rubbing his face less then gently. The morning sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the small hotel room with a kind of glow._

"_Karen-"_

"_Don't," And at that, Karen began to move forward, slowly, stepping towards the door. Dev never moved his eyes from her._

"_Karen, I'm not-"_

"_No Dev, don't," Karen shook her head, and to her relief she felt no tears. She couldn't cry now, not in front of him._

"_Karen, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it, ever." Dev's voice was pleading, begging, and Karen cringed inwardly, the aching sensation ripping at her chest._

"_I know," Her eyes sparkled in the light, and she was almost across the room to him now. He was backing away, keeping himself between her and the door. She sighed. "And that's what makes it so much worse."_

"_But Karen, I-"_

"_Dev, don't please."_

"_Karen just listen-"_

"_I don't want to-"_

"_Listen to me."_

"_I don't want to!" She screamed it, and now she felt to tears, in the very back of her mind, struggling weakly. She wasn't going to cry. "I'm not listening to you, Dev! I don't care."_

"_You were sensational, Karen," Dev said, not giving up, standing now with his back to the door, hand on the doorknob. "You were stunning, and terrific, like you always are-"_

"_Dev, please stop-"_

"_And it made me realize and remember how much I love you-"_

_Karen grabbed the doorknob and turned it, pulling it toward her with as much force as she could muster. It didn't budge and Dev kept his fingers wrapped around it. "You aren't going to stop me from leaving."_

"_If that's what it takes, I will," Dev said fiercely, his eyes glinting with a slightly crazed light. "I'll do anything for you."_

"_Dev, let go of the door."_

"_No."_

"_Dev-"_

"_No, I'm not going to."_

"_You're acting like a child-"_

"_I can't let you go," Dev whispered, his eyes still alive with that glint. "I can't. I can't do it."_

"_Well," Karen said, swallowing slightly. The tears were ever present, a wall building itself against the inside of her eyes. She needed to go. "I can."_

_With all the effort she could muster, she pulled the door handle, either overpowering Dev's strength or simply shocking him with her comment. But as she swung the door open and moved into the hall, Dev stepped in front of her._

"_Just tell me one thing," He was angry now. She could hear it in his words, and see it in the way he gripped the doorframe. She looked straight into his eyes, and his gaze didn't waver. "Tell me it wasn't because of that bloody director."_

"_Derek?" Karen said, incredulous, and Dev scowled._

"_I don't care who he is, I don't care what his name is. Just tell me it wasn't because of him." Dev was panting, his chest heaving. Karen frowned._

"_Dev, you know exactly what this is about, and it has nothing to do with Derek, or with me, for that matter," Karen swallowed again, fighting down the guilt that was building up in her chest. No matter how much right she had to be, she hated being upset with him, being upset with anyone. "This is not my fault Dev, this is yours. I'm sorry."_

"_I made a mistake Karen, that's all," He starred at her, wide eyed. "I can fix it, I promise. I swear I can-"_

"_I don't want you to fix it," Karen finally said, and shook her head. She dropped her gaze, but she could feel Dev's still resting on her. "I want you to let it go." And with that she turned, feet padding along the carpeted floor. He did not follow behind her, and she reached the end of the hallway and turned, reaching out for the elevator button-_

"Iowa!" A shrill voice cried, and Karen rolled over, groaning. "Wake up sleepyhead!"

"Why?" Karen complained, pulling the blankets over her head. Through a crack in the soft fabric, she could see the bedside clock, flashing red, and Jessica's bright, animated face. "Jess, it's eight thirty. We don't have to be there until eleven."

"I know!" She jumped up and down a little bit, rolling off her bed to seat herself next to Karen on the floor. Grudgingly throwing aside her blankets, Karen sat up, crossing her legs and remaining seated on the small, makeshift bed she had constructed upon her arrival last night. Sue lay spread across her own bed, head and legs dangling over the side as she beamed at them, and Bobby and Dennis both seemed to have abandoned their room in favor of this one. Karen rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stretching and yawning as she fully sat up.

"What's going on?"

"The reviews, Iowa!" Bobby said impatiently, grabbing the laptop from Jessica's bag and handing it to her. Practically glowing with excitement, the cast member flipped open the computer and began furiously typing. Karen shook her head.

"I don't-"

"It's Sunday!" Dennis repeated. "All the papers release their reviews today."

"We get to see just how fabulous little Iowa's become," Groaning again, Karen squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment as the rest of them crowded around the computer.

"Let's not-"

"Here it is!" Eyes alive and eager, the four huddled behind they screen, heads flicking back and forth minutely as they read the typeface. Karen waited, elbows resting on her knees, starring into the middle distance, before several excited squeals erupted from the group. "Oh Karen, they loved it!"

"That's great," Karen smiled. Though it excited her, the idea of reading any kind of critique about her performance, positive or otherwise, evocated a kind of nausea in the pit of her stomach.

" 'With the show in shambles,' " Jessica began, quoting directly from the supposed article. Karen felt a flush already creeping into her cheeks. " 'Tattered and chaotic from the carnage of two Marilyn's gone, there was not much that could be expected from raw, wide eyed barely-an-understudy. But, in complete honest, I can say that the third try was undoubtedly the charm. Karen Cartwright, a native Iowan and exceedingly green newcomer in the face of theater, had nothing to her name, but 'Cartwright' is now an undisputable synonym for Mortenson, as far as the world of theater is concerned.' "

Speaking over the other girl, Sue quickly interjected, her mouth spread in the widest of smiles. " 'Abandoning reality and leaving the rest of society behind her, Cartwright's effortless transition from Karen to Marilyn is only paralleled by that of Norm Jean herself. From first note to last, from the opening mambo to the final turn, from her easily discernable glow among to shadow selves until the final moments, wrapped naked in the bed-sheets, Ms. Cartwright's portrayal was something to be envied by all. A rare mix of innocence and dominance, long searched for among the people of the stage, her guiltless inexperience and a deep, raw talent were seamlessly mixed to concoct the perfect Marilyn; smiling at the right point, twisting in the right way, walking with the right movement, singing with the right vibrato. An all in all incredible performance . . ."

Karen stopped listening, her mortification getting the better of her as her cheeks brunt white hot. Still beaming and reading loudly, the other four barely acknowledged as she stood up and walked past them, heading into the bathroom. Not wanting to seem rude, she merely turned on the tap and splashed several rounds of cold water on her face, dabbing her skin dry with a towel before folding it and returning it to the side of sink. Sighing slightly, she tried again to rub the weariness from her eyes, to rid herself of the still present images of Dev, burned against inside of her eyelids.

However, and maybe even more important then the later, the smell still lingered on her skin. Not of Dev, she had rid herself of _that_ directly following the performance, but the equally troubling scent of a certain director. It was hard to pinpoint the exact smell, a kind of mix between body wash, hair gel, pencil led and the musty smell of the theater wings, it lingered on her skin as she raised her forearm to her face with the towel. She inhaled deeply, letting out an unconscious sigh, and shook her head. She needed a shower.

"That's great guys!" She said, poking her head around the doorframe and plastering on a smile. "I'm taking a shower."

"Karen wait-"

But she had already shut the door, flicking on the water and stripping down as steam began to envelope the small room. As she stepped underneath the flow, the warm water scalded her skin, pushing at the knotted muscles of her shoulders and neck, and she sighed. She could feel the imprint of his hand, as though it were still curled across her collarbone, drumming against the back of her neck. She turned the dial on the shower towards red.

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Derek starred at the door for longer then he could remember, his eyes seeming to sink deeper and deeper into the thick, dark wood. His body still poised in movement, his muscles still tensed and ready, he waited for the door handle to turn, for her enchanting face and chestnut curls to come bouncing yet again through the doorway, eyes brimming with the tears of her idiot boyfriend. And he would take her in his arms and wipe them away, slowly, with the pads of his fingers, and he would do nothing but hold her and he would be happy.

But she didn't come, because he was the idiot now. God, he was more then that, so much more then that. Idiot barely gave credit to his stupidity. He was a moron, and a prick, a debauchee, and coincidentally a jackass.

"Idiot!" He yelled, turning in one swift motion and slamming his fist into the wall. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!" His fist continued to fly, and he wished so badly that he could break the wall, feel the pain in his hand as the plaster punctured his skin. But he only cursed under his breath, dropping his fist to the side and leaning his arm against the wall, panting.

He rested his head on his forearm, staring down at his shoes, and the tiny, miniscule indent he'd left in the wall. Barely forming the shape of his knuckles, he ran the fingertips of his free hand along it, feeling the slight dip and fold in the fabric. He closed his eyes, and remembered the small of Karen's back, the soft indent of her spine-

He lashed out, his hand flying sideways and connecting sharply with a glass vase set delicately on the table by the television. It crashed to the floor, shattering in a beautiful explosion of blue paint and white ceramic, and Derek took a momentary pleasure in the mess, strewn across the carpet that wasn't his. And then he remembered, and cursed under his breath, and began scooping the glass from the ground, carefully digging the smaller pieces from the hotel's carpet and muttering profanities as he went.

Stupid idiot. Complete and utter moron. Self-absorbed, manipulating, narcissistic jackass. He dumped the remains in the trashcan and then fell onto the bed, this time rubbing his hands into his eyes instead of following the patterns of the ceiling. He tried to breath deeply, but when another wave of anger overcame him, he pressed the heels of his palms deep into his eyes and watched as the lights burst, forming patterns against his eyelids.

And it wasn't even the anger that he'd almost had her. Truthfully, he had both brought and accepted many women into his hotel room before, and none of them had ever denied him their company. But it wasn't about his own physical desires and bodily sorrow at her rejection, as he had so long thought after the night of the casting couch. Being with Karen wasn't filling in some puzzle piece in the never-ending picture of his romantic escapades.

No, Karen was something so much more, so much deeper within his heart that he could hardly bare to realize it, let alone reach down and grab it. He shuddered and sat up, rolling over and grabbing an innocent soda from the mini fridge. He popped it open and listened to the gentle fizzing as he tried to sort out . . . But to sort out what? His mind was a whirl with conflicting ideas and bombarding emotions, and the only thing he could begin to conceive was that his way was not the right way.

No matter how hard he tried to pull her in, entice her with his carefully constructed bait or lure her into his arms. No matter if he waited to swooped in at her in a moment of need, a moment of doubt, or a moment of vulnerability –and so far in his career, there had been at least one for each actress he had encountered- none of them seemed to appear. Even when the idea or the opportunity did strike, he felt an aching in his gut as he thought of it. The only thing to do, he realized, was to not be himself.

If he wanted Karen Cartwright –and really wanted her; not in bed, not as Marilyn, not for his own self-satisfaction, but simply as herself- he was going to have to not be himself. No aloof smooth talk or concealed flirting, not overly gentle or sultry touches, not words whispered in ear as his hands glided across her hips, fastening the final closing of her golden dress as he felt her sharp intake of breath. He knew she would not be taken by any of it, and what he felt for her was worth more then that, so much more.

And yet, as he stood backstage later that night after listening to the cacophony of reviews read to the ensemble by the cast, listening to Michael begin the first stanza of their final number, and he saw her strong slender form slip into that golden dress for the second time, he just couldn't help himself. And maybe it was the deeper part of him talking, the part that understood this feeling, but it wasn't making very wise decisions as it directed the stagehand away from the star and willed his hands around her waist.

He felt her stiffen again, but this time, her muscles never relaxed, growing tighter as he came to stand behind her. He didn't lean into her, his breath making no contact with her skin, yet he could see ever hair on her neck standing rigid as they stood, silent, for a fraction of a second. He waited for her to speak, and she did.

"What do you want?" the words were sharp and painful, but he absorbed the blow. He no doubt deserved it. He let his hands leave her figure and instead focused on slowly closing each fastening of her dress.

"I wanted to apologize," He began. He was not quite certain what he was going to say, but that seemed like a good place to start. "For everything."

"Wow, two apologies from Derek Wills," Karen cooed in a whisper, and he could see her eyes rolling even if her head was turned away. His expression never changed. "I should be honored-"

"No, you shouldn't be." Derek snapped, his hand halfway up the row of buttons. His fingers worked the same methodical rhythm, but his forehead furrowed. "I should."

"No, I'm sure I should be falling at my knees," Karen spat back, but her voice choked slightly, and he felt the faintest of shivers as his finger tips grazed the skin of her back over the last several clips. "Begging you to take me right here-"

"Karen," Derek said, turning her around by her shoulders to face him. She looked unblinking into his eyes, and the director took a deep breath. "Please, I wanted to tell you how phenomenal you were, to prove to you how wonderful heartbreak could make you-"

"Oh save it," Still whispering, she scowled and crossed her arms. Derek frowned. Even he had winced at his own words; why did he always seem to loose his gift of appropriate speech when she was around.

"I-"

"Art isn't therapy, Derek," She hissed, throwing his own words back at him. "And neither are woman. I'm sorry that Ivy and Rebecca apparently weren't sufficient enough to satisfy you, but I'm not about to fill that gap." She gazed at him and shook her head, arms crossed over her chest, but if he looked closely he could see a kind of sadness in her eyes. "We aren't going to be together."

And before he could speak she was gone, strolling swiftly across the stage to make her cue in perfect time. From first note to last, the second rendition of the song was even more spectacular then the first, but Derek felt undoubtedly hallow as he left for his hotel by the end of the show. He grimaced as he remembered the well-stocked mini bar awaiting him.

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**More angst-y-ness, but maybe there'll be a little more K/D love in chapter 5? Who knows (I know!) but you will know soon enough! Please leave a review if you are so inclined, yet again millions upon millions of 'thank you's to everyone who has supported this story in any way, and I will see you shortly.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there all! Chapter four now up! Thanks again to people for reviewing with your comments and ideas. You are all wonderful! Thank you, thank you, thank you! So here is the next chapter:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Smash, or any of its greatness.**

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When Derek stirred the next morning, he felt the pounding throb in his head of an impending hangover. Glowering and rubbing at his eyes, he rolled over and bumped abruptly into a warm, soft shape. A figure, hips and chest curved beneath his thick hotel sheets, long, slender arms splayed across the mattress and extending from well built shoulders. Dark chestnut locks spilling in a tumbling mass across the pillow, he felt his heart jump into his throat as he took in her slender body He moved away from her, having accidentally come in contact with her skin, and tried not to panic. She looked to be about the right height, her same shape, and around her same build-

The girl turned over, flipping gracefully to face him, and Derek saw, to his slight dismay and slight relief, that the face was not that of his star. Yet despite her deep green eyes and fuller, rounder cheeks, the younger girl's face held an uncanny resemblance to that of Ms. Cartwright. He shuddered, a shiver running up his spine, and looked at her for a long moment as she smiled.

"Well," Her voce wasn't quite right, deeper then Karen's and with more sultry infliction then he could ever imagine the other woman using. His frowned deepened and he furrowed his brow. "Good morning. Quite a nice way to be woken up."

Taking a moment to ponder her words, Derek was caught off guard she leaned in and pecked his lips. She pulled away slowly, starring at him thoughtfully, almost skeptically, and Derek pushed himself into a sitting position. Becoming acutely conscious of his nakedness beneath the bed-sheets, the director wrapped one hand around his torso, the other running through his hair.

"I'm awfully sorry about all of this," Derek said distractedly, grabbing his boxer shorts from beside the bed and slipping them on. He never picked up brunettes, almost as a rule of thumb; he liked the blondes, bigger, louder and all together more voluptuous in general, at least when it came to the theater.

"Is something wrong?" The girls asked less then innocently. Derek could barely look at her; he could hear the contempt in her voice, most likely due to his suddenly shy demeanor. Emboldened by her behavior, Derek straightened and turned to her as he pulled on his pants. A mistake on his part; all he could see was a white blonde wig turned up at him from among a mess of pink sheets, her eyes turned deep brown and her smile far less condescending then the one turned to him. He shuddered, blinking Karen from his mind, and focused on the doppelganger before him.

"Yes," he said under his breath. "Yes, everything is wrong."

"Well that's a little drastic," She rolled out of the bed, entirely at ease with her nudity, and raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You're far less friendly then you were last night."

"Intoxication can induce and replicate many unintentionally portrayed feelings," Derek stated, buttoning his pants and searching for his shirt. It was across the room, hanging on an armchair. He extricated it.

"If you're trying to say I wasn't good enough for you, then just spit it out," Derek winced at the comment, shaking his head, and the young woman shrugged. "In any case, _I_ think we hit it off rather nicely."

"Well that is simply splendid for you," Derek said with only slight annoyance. He slipped on his shirt, affectively obscuring his bare chest, which she had been watching intently with a kind of hunger. He pulled the shirt down farther, now thoroughly annoyed. When was he ever embarrassed by anything, especially a woman's scrutiny?

"You don't agree?" She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him, and Derek felt a pang of guilt. Guilty that he had brought anyone else into this mess –if only for one night- and embarrassed and angry with himself for thinking she would be a suitable replacement for the woman he craved. Had he really tried to replace Karen? He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No," He stated, and she turned away from him, picking her jeans up off the ground and rolling her eyes. "As a matter of fact, I did not. I don't even know your name."

"It's Natalie," The girl said, not sharply, but with enough infliction to make him frown. As he opened his mouth to offer his own name, the girl shook her head. "Don't bother. You really think I don't know who you are?"

"Umm," Derek shut his mouth slowly and looked at her, his head tilted to the side as she pulled a blouse over her head and turned toward the mirror. "No actually, I don't." The girl just laughed.

"So I'm not as good as Ivy, or Ms. Duvall?" For a sickening moment, Derek thought his mistake had been even more drastic then he had imagined. Had he really been so blinded as to sleep with another member of Bombshell? Was he that naïve, that he could barely pick his cast out of a crowd?

"I don't-"

"I read the gossip blogs," Natalie shrugged, running a hand through her hair and grimacing in the mirror. "Don't worry, you don't know me."

"Oh," Derek breathed a sigh of relief, and the young woman flashed him a skeptical smile. Derek grinned back, his small smile as lopsided as usual. He turned to the drink machine behind him. "You want some coffee?"

She nodded her consent, and there were several minutes of less than comfortable silence, as Natalie scooped some stray items into her purse. They stood for a long moment as the coffee slowly warmed, neither saying anything as Natalie continued to tidy herself up, and the moment it was done Derek practically through the liquid into a cup and handed it to her. The brunette raised an eyebrow at him as he placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Please darling," The director offered, turning her away from him gently. "Let me show you downstairs." He reached form the doorknob and pulled it open.

"No really, it's fine," The young woman scoffed, and walked into the hotel hallway. "I can walk myself." She looked at him for a moment, almost thoughtful, and Derek felt an unbearable amount of embarrassment build up inside him. Finally, she asked, "She doesn't look like me, does she?"

Derek shook his head, confused. "Who looks like you?"

"This girl," Natalie looked bemused at his confusion. "Come on, you're obviously smitten with someone, and overwhelmed with guilt for sleeping with me, I get it."

Totally and entirely flustered now, Derek could barely speak. At first a flush of anger ran through him, blaming the girl's audacity for his sudden feeling of emptiness. Then he seemed to deflate and, looking her up, nodded sadly.

"Yes, you bare an-" He struggled with his words, "uncanny resemblance."

"Pathetic," But she was smiling a broad smile, the kindest she had worn since they rolled out of bed, and Derek smiled back uncertainly. "Let me give you a piece of advise: Sleeping with me has no affect on her, for better or for worse." Derek nodded once, speechless, and Natalie patted him on the back rather roughly.

And with that she was gone, disappearing down the hall and away from him, and the director starred blankly across the hall to the cream colored wallpaper opposite. It was several minutes before he shook the cobwebs from his mind and going to take a long, cold shower. And maybe that one push from a near stranger was exactly what he needed, because he knew now more than ever that he had to have her. He needed her. And he knew what he needed to do.

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And for the next several day after the second performance, a kind of cat and mouse game ensued, consisting of Derek's careful ploys to get the pair of them a moment of solidarity, and Karen's conceded efforts in opposition. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Derek; she just didn't believe she had it in her to refuse his advances in such a way. It was frankly too much unnecessary stress and held too little benefit for her to be bothered by it. And so each time he approached her, there was always choreography to be practiced or a dress to be fitted.

Two more performances passed, a Tuesday and a Wednesday show consecutively, and each possibly more brilliant then the last. And each day, Derek's efforts escalated and Karen's excuses became weaker and weaker. On neither occasions during the show did he come and fasten her dress or approach her in anyway save for congratulations and encouragement, and at no point did he make any kind of advances on her, and yet she was intimidated. His near constant focus and attention, along with his continuous demands to spend time with her, were –while slightly irritating and worrisome- almost endearing, in a way. The entire situation was beyond confusing, from Derek's behavior to her own reaction.

Yet even so, she was not without annoyance when he grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her rather forcefully from her group of friends and across the stage. It was Thursday, there was no performance scheduled for tonight, and the ensemble had spent the day less then engaged in the notes and changes Derek had to offer. Spending most of the time finally fitting each of Rebecca's costumes to her proportions, Karen had been crouched among a group of her sitting friends, talking idly about nothing as they relished their day of rest, when Derek had approached. His face utterly neutral, he had proceeded to walk up to the group, wrap his arms around her forearm and practically drag her too her feet.

"Ms. Cartwright, I need a word," To momentarily startled to react, Karen allowed herself to he pulled off stage and into the wings. Only once they had passed out of the vision of the non-existent audience did she seem to catch her bearings, and pulled her arm angrily from his grip. Almost annoyed, Karen frowned as she crossed her arms and starred at him. He starred right back.

"Did you want something?" Karen finally said, slightly annoyed that their conversations lately seemed to always begin with the same question. Derek's eyebrows knit together.

"I just wanted to talk to you."

"Alright." Again, there was silence, and Karen tapped her foot unconsciously.

"I just wanted to apologize-" Karen scoffed instantly cutting off his words, and she could see –to her alarm- that a flushed redness was climbing up his cheeks. Was the great Derek Wills blushing? She couldn't imagine what for.

"You don't need to apologize anymore, I told you that already," Derek frowned again, his mouth a hard line, and raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. Karen took a deep breath and fidgeted. She didn't want to be rude to him, but she also whole-heartedly did **not** want to have this conversation. She blinked several times.

"I am aware I don't have to," Derek continued, his voice softer as the ensemble moved unconsciously closer. "But I want to. I want you to know that I'm sincere."

"What about?" Karen asked, her voice still loud, and Derek looked almost ready to tell her to quiet down. But he didn't, and so she took the initiative herself. She dropped her voice. "What are you sincere about?"

"My apologies," He said hastily, jumping at her invitation towards conversation. "For every wrong I've ever done to you. And about my feelings."

"Derek-" Karen's heart jumped, flipped, and summersaulted downwards into her stomach at his words, but she studiously ignored it as Derek reached out and gripped her shoulder.

"Please, just let me finish," Derek wrapped his fingers around her collarbone, then seemed to become conscious of the fact and dropped his hand. "Sorry."

Karen laughed, and Derek looked confused at first, not understanding. "That's your fourth apology." He smirked slightly, and for a brief instant the tension between them faded.

"Karen, your different from the rest of them," And it was back, like a dead weight on her shoulders, like a thick, fuzzed wall between them. Karen felt almost angry at his attempts to breach it. "You're . . . you're a challenge."

"You mean I'm not an easy lay?" The response came out before she could stop it, and she saw him winces slightly. She felt a tiny bubble of guilt rise into her chest.

"No, Karen no. That's not what I meant at all," He seemed bashful, almost ashamed, and the feeling of confusion she had carried the entire week rose yet again to the surface. Whoever this nervous, anxious man was, it wasn't the Dark Lord she and the other's new. She crossed her arms even more tightly

"I know what you meant," Derek looked at her hopefully. "You mean I'm not like Rebecca. I'm not like Ivy. I'm not as good-"

"No! No, darling," Derek said, shaking his head in almost frustration, and Karen stopped, clasping her hands around her arms as the remained twisted over her chest. "See that's exactly what I don't want. I don't want this to be about Ivy or Rebecca. I don't want this to be about anyone else."

"I don't understand what you mean." Derek looked over, noticing the sudden proximity of the cast, and lead her farther away into the slight shadows of the stage. Karen shifted uncomfortably.

"I mean that Ivy was defenseless. She was just like every other star I've ever known: Outwardly overbearing and inwardly broken," Karen looked at him, looked directly at him for the first time since Sunday in his hotel room. His eyes were a very bright, deep gray. "And Rebecca was easy. God, she was so obvious all I had to do was walk into her dressing room."

"And your point is?" Karen cut in, thoroughly annoyed by his renditions of the former Marilyns. Though she did not particularly like Ivy, Rebecca had been a friend of hers and she couldn't stand hearing anyone being talked about that way. Their conversation seemed to have steered off in a very different direction, and it had gone on long enough. "You want to sleep with me because I'm more challenging then your past exploits? Because I've already denied twice?"

"Karen, I-" He stopped, furrowing his brow and struggling for words, and Karen was tempted to walk away. But she didn't, and he opened his eyes and looked at her almost pleadingly. "I- . . . Here, let me take you out to dinner?"

Karen laughed openly, an entirely humorous and non-spiteful laugh, but a laugh all the same. She shook her head. "No Derek, I've already told you no."

"You said you wouldn't sleep with me," Derek countered, smiling slightly at the small smile that grazed her lips. "Which is entirely separate from what I'm asking love."

"No Derek," Karen shook her head, but continued to smile to a certain extent. "I will not go out to dinner with you. This is the third time I've said it, I don't care what loopholes you construct."

"Please, Karen," Karen looked at him, taking a deep breath and shaking her head. "No casting couch, no hotel room visit, no anything. Just talking and dinner."

"Derek-"

"Third time's the charm?" He asked, and in that moment her looked so hopeful, his eyes burning with such innocent longing, that she truly wondered what he had done with the real Derek Wills. But maybe that was all for the best, she decided as she uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her sides, because she rather liked his replacement. She thought for a long moment, and then nodded her head slowly, almost reluctantly.

"Alright. Fine," Karen relented, and a smile spread across his face, far different from the smirks she was accustomed to. "Dinner."

"Tonight?" Derek asked, for all the world like an excited schoolboy, and Karen raised and eyebrow as she shook her head.

"No," He frowned slightly, but she smiled. "Tomorrow, after the performance."

"Alright," He said, and proceeded to look around him slowly. With no one else in sight, he took her hand and kissed it gallantly. "Until tomorrow, Ms. Cartwright."

She shook her head, almost in wonder. "Alright, goodnight."

"Goodnight." And with that, she turned and left.

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**Chapter Four finished! Hurray! I don't really know why I feel the need to inform you of the beginning and ending of each chapter, but oh well. Something to do, I guess. And who doesn't love consistency? You know who loves consistency, that little review button does! Please leave one, if you are so inclined. Until next time.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, look at that! It's chapter five! Crazy how that happens, right? (Sorry about that weirdness) Umm . . . so I made a few miniscule changes to the last chapter, it just seemed a bit too happy. Not that I want it to be morbid or anything, Karen just came across as a bit to forgiving, and I still wanted her to seem a bit weary. She's not gonna fall into his arms just yet ;-) Alright, so here it goes:**

**Disclaimer: Though it pains me to say so, I do not own Smash, or ay portion of it whatsoever.**

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Mesmerizing.

It was the only way to describe her performance as he sat –for the first time- in one of the red, cushioned chairs in the back of the auditorium. Seeing her practice at rehearsal was always enchanting, watching her preform from the wings was electrifying, but back here, even in the cheap seats, that was the only possible word he could come up with. Mesmerizing. Her movements were so easily Marilyn, her emotions so genuine and true, that she seemed to shine with a kind of glow that he knew only a star could exude. He could barely take his eyes off her.

(He speculated, however, that this might be due to the personal . . . predicament he was facing surrounding her. He refused to acknowledge the feeling for what it was, though the voices in the back of his mind seemed determined to conjure this realization.)

History Is Made At Night was _uncomfortable _to say the least. He felt a nagging pain clawing at the inside of his stomach, his fingers tapping uncontrollably as Michael wrapped his arms around Karen's waist. In his opinion, she played the part almost _too _well, but he forced himself to merely furrow his brow as the couch swung across the stage. He gripped the armrest of his seat as his knuckles whitened.

But it ended soon after, and he relaxed back into his seat as the stage lights fell, and tried to breath deeply as he shook his head. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and let the tension drain from his body. And after a moment her voice, beautiful and clear, traversed the auditorium and seemed to sing only to his ears. "_Never give all the heart . . ."_

He smiled slightly, raising an eyebrow unconsciously and a breathed a laugh. Oh contraire, he chuckled softly. The heart, he seemed to be learning, was as entirely uncontrollable as the organ itself, and fully capable of handing itself over unprecedented. The advice was not unwarranted, simply . . . not appropriate for his current situation, as he had previously realized. For Karen, it was all or nothing, and he would undoubtedly put his heart up to play.

And the 'all' route, he remembered now with a full smile, was yielding quite positive results, as tonight was his dinner. With Karen. A mixture of nerves and anticipation tumbled inside his chest, and he felt his foot begin to tap in agitation. He was tempted, beyond tempted, to call it a date, but he held himself back. _Slow,_ he thought, _or I'll lose her._

And yet, from that moment on, he could barely wait until the curtain had closed, his only solace found in Karen's presence on stage. And once the curtain fell, he practically jumped out of his seat, strolling swiftly towards the door with hands tucked in his pockets as the crowd clapped and cheered. Even before the cast had returned for their bows, he had slipped out the door, making his way down the street with a skip in his step. He needed to be ready, as ready as h could possibly be, and he skipped the elevator and dashed up the stairs two at a time. To his surprise, he caught himself whistling as he pushed open the door to his floor.

Mesmerizing.

Though not with the joyful connotation he had previously described, such was the position he found himself in as he sat in his room, starring at a pile of shirts spread across his bed. Should he go for a t-shirt, or something nicer? For the life of him, he could not remember the last time he had worn a dress shirt, much less to rehearsal of all places, but a button down seemed appropriate. Would she mind, Karen? Would that be too odd?

Scoffing suddenly, he grabbed a shirt from the pile and threw it on. He, Derek Wills, undoubtedly the person who cared the very least about the opinions of other, struggling over a shirt choice? He shook his head and moved to the bathroom, soaking his hands with water and brutally scrubbing his face. Then to his hair, running his fingers through it over and over again until it was sufficiently tousled. And for several more minutes, he starred forcefully into the mirror, willing his mind to stop spinning in every direction. He needed to focus, he needed to relax, he had to stop acting like the prick that he was becoming.

And finally, mesmerizing.

Really and truly mesmerizing.

Karen, as she met him just outside the front doors of the hotel, her simple blue dress falling just to her knees and her jacket pulled around her shoulders. She smiled at him, and he nodded, and they took off down the street, Karen following only slightly in his wake. It was only several blocks before they entered the restaurant, mere seconds before Derek pulled out a chair for her to sit in, and he sat himself across from her. There was long moment of silence.

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Karen sat in the chair he proffered, whispering a small thank as he moved to sit across from her, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Biting her lip, she crossed her legs beneath the table and deftly hung the coat across the back of her chair. She watched uncertainly as he hung his own coat and glanced up to look at her. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him fold his arms and set them on the table, his gaze still burning into her, and she fiddled with the end of her napkin.

"You look fantastic," Her head shot up and she smiled with slight confusion as he looked directly at her.

"Thanks," She shuddered inwardly at her words. She sounded so childish, so inexperienced. She needed to assert herself, remind him who was the one who'd invited _her_ here in the first place. She sat up a little straighter and smiled a true smile, unclenching her fists and resting her hands on the edge of the table. "You don't look half bad yourself."

"Oh," Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well then," Karen almost laughed as his eyes crinkled at the corners, and she felt her heart jump in her chest. Her anxiety had not left her. "You really were sensational tonight, as usual." Derek half smiled at the waitress as she poured their glasses, but his attention had returned to Karen before she could take a breath. It was more then slightly nerve-racking, yet also strangely exhilarating.

"It really is wonderful, being her," Karen sipped her drink and followed his hand with her eyes as he did the same. "I meant to thank you for that by the way. For picking me."

"Don't. You shouldn't have too," Karen frowned, but Derek shook his head as he looked down at the menu. "I didn't do it as a favor; you were meant for the part, and you truly are spectacular. You earned it."

Karen opened her mouth, unsure of what to say and how to respond, but their waiter arrived and saved her from any further conversation. They ordered food, Karen speaking quietly as she fought the flush from her cheeks, and as the director's attention turned away from her, her mind began to wonder. It wasn't that she wanted to avoid conversation, she simply needed a moment to breath. Several long, deep inhales, and she kept a placating smile on her face as she starred around the room.

The place was lavish, awash with expensive metals and fabrics and important looking people having important looking conversations. The entire air buzzed with a kind of sophistication, accompanied by a soft, smooth instrumental backdrop, and Karen yet again shifted in her seat. She was undoubtedly underdress; ever neck but her own glinted with fine jewels, ears hung with gold and silver, hair pushed and pinned to perfection as the women hung on the arms of men with diamond cufflinks. She swallowed audibly, blinking several times and running a had through her hair, crisp and freshly wind-dried from their walk to the restaurant. She began to feel increasingly uncomfortable, avoiding any glances sent their way and clenching her hands in her lap.

She began to hum, quietly, under her breathe, trying her best to take quell the beating anxiety in her chest and keep her face light-hearted. Just calm, easy breaths and a careful smile, she was an actress after all, she could disguise her uneasiness. "_The past fades away,_" She sang unknowingly, her voice barely reaching a whisper. The whole room was a flurry of colors, lights and sounds, and she could feel it beginning to close in on her. "_Because as of this day-"_

"Karen?" She started, jumping and hitting her hand against the bottom of the table with a clatter as she let out an involuntary noise of surprise. Derek was leaning forward, looking at her with only slight amusement, though concern laced most of his features, and Karen reached forward to take a long sip of water. A bottle of wine had appeared, unbidden, along with two glasses, but Derek only glanced at her with mild confusion. "Are you alright darling?"

"I'm fine," She blushed, a deep, burning red, and squeezed her hands more tightly together. "I'm sorry, I just sing when I get . . . nervous." She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment as the words slipped out, and she shook her head minutely. What the hell was she doing?

"Am I making you nervous?" His voice was so concerned, anxious, that she felt a jolt of guilt pierce her. She shook her head fervently and then wished she hadn't, his brow remaining furrowed in worry. She slowly repositioned her silverware on the table.

"I'm just-"

"I didn't mean to, Love," He said sincerely, still not taking his eyes off her. His gaze was beginning to make her fidget, more so then it had before.

"No, you're not," Karen shook her head and did her best to smile at him. "It's fine, really. I'm fine." Not convinced, Derek leaned back in her chair, reaching out and pulling forth the bottle of wine. With deft hands he poured out two glasses, his attention momentarily fixed on the beverage and handed one to her politely. She took it, thanking him, but did not drink it.

An even longer silence followed, punctuated by careful sips of wine from Derek and finger tapping from Karen, before his patient, accusatory stare got the better of her. She shook her head and gestured around enigmatically.

"It's just this place, that's all," Derek looked around with her, following the lines of her hands without any real purpose and turning back to her with a slightly accusatory glance. He was frowning again.

"Do you not like it?"

"No!" Karen almost interrupted, shaking her head fervently. "No it's wonderful, I love it, it's just-" She stopped, looking for the right words. Derek waiting patiently. "It's just a bit much."

"How so?" Derek sat forward again ad looked at her. Karen shrugged, his stare slightly more intense.

"I don't know, it's just a bit too much,"

"You don't like it?" Persistent and almost slightly annoyed, Derek looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I don't know."

"If you don't like it, that's fine."

"I never said I didn't like it."

"Well then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's a lot, that's all."

"A lot of what?"

"I don't know Derek," Karen frowned now too, and crossed her arms. "It's just a lot."

"In what way?"

"I don't know what way!" Karen hissed, not wanting to raise her voice as their conversation was already beginning to attract attention. "In that way that it just seems like a lot, alright?" Derek was silent for a brief moment, then he nodded once.

"Okay, fine." The air between them was dead. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't badger you."

"Fifth apology," Karen muttered under her breath, and Derek's eyes moved back to her where they had dropped to the table.

"Sorry?" Derek looked thoroughly upset, and Karen couldn't help but frown as she spoke, she raised her voice only slightly.

"I said that was your fifth apology," Karen glowered at him, but in contrast, Derek face broke into a wide, beaming smile. Confused, Karen watched as he reached forward and took a sip of wine, chuckling the whole time. After a moment, she couldn't help but laugh as well, slightly uncertainly, and it seemed to only escalate Derek amusement. After several moments, the tension between then easily dropped and Karen laughed almost with relief.

"So it was darling," Derek shook his head, virtually in wonder. Karen watched him for a moment as he looked off into the distance. "So it was."

"Well," Karen folded her napkin in her lap as she saw their food approaching. "I'm flattered." She teased.

"As you rightfully should be," Karen's eyebrows shot up at his banter, and he winked at her as the waiter set their food on the table. He really winked at her.

"Don't get to ahead of yourself Mr. Wills," Derek laughed and picked up his fork, dipping into the food and taking another drink. Karen began her own meal.

"Oh really?" Derek asked as she chewed, watching her with a kind of fascination. There was new kind of sparkle in his eyes that she had never seen before. "Well so far, I believe my apologies have gotten me rather far."

"One date is far?" Karen asked, incredulous that the director would consider dinner paramount to such high stakes, before then realizing the implications of her words. She quickly dropped her gaze to her food and took another bite. She could feel Derek's gaze burning into the top of her head.

"So this is a date, then?" The not-so-subtle-innuendo was not lost on him, and Karen looked up to see him smirking, head tilted slightly to the side. Karen shook her head, raising her eyebrows but smiling as she did. She chewed slowly before answering.

"Don't push your luck," She returned back to her food, but she could see his smile as it widened and his cheeks dimpled. She smiled to herself and took the smallest sip of wine.

And for a while they talked about nothing, _Bombshell_ and Boston and Broadway and anything really, chatting more comfortably then Karen would have ever thought possible. It was nice to see Derek relax, to see the way his face lit up when a topic intrigued him and the look in his eyes when his attention was fixed only on her. It was odd, the way his face softened when she spoke, the way his jaw muscles tensed and relaxed as he seemed to focus all of his energy on her. In a way, it was disconcerting, but more and more so it became almost enjoyable. She flushed slightly. Now almost entirely at ease with the situation, they sat in comfortable silence after their food had been removed and starred out across the streets of Boston.

"So this isn't a date, then?"

"Derek," Karen sighed, wishing the conversation had not gone full circle again, but she openly laughed as he raised his hands in surrender. She took another sip of her still full wine glass, Derek too still on his first and the bottle next to them almost entirely full.

"Ok, alright darling," Derek shook his head and half-smiled. "You certainly were avoiding it as though it were a date."

"You make it sound like the plague," Karen laughed, and watched as the waiter placed the check on the table. "Dinner with you isn't so bad, if I must say."

Instantly, both pairs of hands reached for the bill, but Derek snatched it up first. Flourishing the pen in a rather distinctive and unmistakable manner, he had singed his name before she could even protest and shook his head when he set it back on the table, not saying a word.

"Well I'm flattered, Ms. Cartwright," Derek chuckled and leaned towards her across the table. Karen leaned in too, mimicking his pose and raising her eyebrows. "But you certainly did avoid it like the plague. Needing to refit costumes-"

"That is a very legitimate excuse!" Karen protested, but Derek shook his head as he smiled. "No one would want to see the show if I wore dresses like the one for Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

"Ah," Derek said with a little smile, and leaned back as he starred over her shoulder. "What did I say about it again? Like a . . ."

" 'Like a sack of turnips,' " Karen mocked, laughing as his eyes widened at her awful accent. But he chuckled when she stuck out her tongue.

"Yes, of course. Like a sack of turnips," He seemed rather pleased with himself, and Karen crossed her arms as she surveyed him. "And of course people will come see the show, without a care for how it looks darling. You look incredible not matter what you're wearing."

Karen opened her mouth to speak, but the waiter came and took the receipt, thanking them politely and scurrying off, and Derek stood as Karen reached for her coat. They walked back to the hotel in pleasant silence, not holding hands or touching, just simply walking with an air of closeness undisturbed by the swarming masses of the sidewalks. They stopped before the door to the lobby and turned to one another, Derek smirking slightly. There was a long pause, and Karen knew if anyone was going to speak, it was going to have to be her. She took a deep breath and smiled at him.

"How about dinner on Sunday? I'll choose." And she could tell it was all he could do not to burst with the smile he attempted to hold in. He nodded once.

"Sounds lovely," Derek nodded again and Karen nodded too. There was moment of terribly wonderful awkwardness, then Karen smiled.

"Well, goodnight then."

"Goodnight," And Karen took off, pushing open the doors to the lobby and walking swiftly across the carpeted entryway. She looked back once, and it may have been her imagination, but a delightfully triumphant smile spread like a wave across the director's face as he starred unseeing after her, and he skipped up the steps to the door just as the elevator closed in front of her.

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**And end scene! A satisfying first date dinner between Marilyn and the director? Yes? No? Pretty please inform me of your opinion if you are so disposed, and I will be back with more Karen/Derek goodness (hopefully) very shortly. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**And now it's chapter six! So sorry I am so very late to update, I have plethora of excuses but none of them are very legitimist and I wont subject you to such things. So I'm back. I've been watching all the old episodes again, as I have been deprived of Smash for far too long, and Derek's whole character is so . . . complicated. I'm not quite sure if I'm writing him entirely OOC or not. But whatever, for now, this is Derek, but let me know if you have any suggestions!**

**Disclaimer: Smash is not, and never will be mine. My apologies.**

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The next three weeks past smoothly by in a wash of brightly colored costumes, theater lights and increasingly more comfortable dinners. There was no immediate spark, no instantly discernible change in the director or the star, yet Karen felt almost lighter then air as she floated through the next twenty-one days. Between Marilyn and the constant adrenaline, and her periodic dinners with Derek, she was more then overcome with a mix of confusion and emotions, but happiness seemed to win out in the end, though she wasn't sure why.

Derek Wills was kind. It was an entirely oxymoronic statement in her mind, but it was becoming increasingly more obvious as the days passed by. He was charming, he was alluring, he was narcissistic, all of these things she had known, but the fact that he was funny, generous and caring were new views to her entirely. Though ripe with long silences as they walked together towards each destinations, their dinner dates increased in total accumulative number and consisted of less and less uncomfortable seat shift and more and more laughing and talking.

And there was nothing forward from Derek. Besides his flirtatious demeanor and overall slightly sultry half smiles, he never wrapped his arm around her waist as he was want to do with other women. He more then usually kept his hands in his lap as they ate, carefully avoiding the cliché brushed fingertips and faint contacts of skin on skin that sent shivers up her spine, and though his slightly self-absorbed demeanor became more and more out of place as the days passed, she appreciated his honoring her want for leisure and simplicity. Yet as the days progressed, she found her mind less regretful as she shivered at his contact, and more relishing in the emotion. She shook her head at this, however, as if trying to dislodge the very notion from her mind.

But in the end, it was Karen who finally reached out and took his hand as they walked back to their hotel a full week after their first dinner. She laughed while they strolled, leaning her weight against his shoulder as he beamed at her, and reaching out delicately without any sort of preamble, wrapped her fingers around his. His eyes flicked down for a moment, and slowly, very gently, he gripped her hand and raised his head to smile as they moved through the crowd. Very tenderly, he squeezed her fingers and rubbed his thumb across her palm, and from then on she made a point of taking his fingers in her grasp each time they walked through the streets of Boston, returning from whatever sight they had ventured to. It took about the same amount of time, and a bit more cajoling, but both of them eventually accepted their meetings as dates.

However, the mere moment they came within sight of the hotel, their hands were disentangled without a word, without any form of communication at all, and an unspoken agreement was signed. And beyond that point, there was no contact outside of the norm. Throughout rehearsal they exchanged no words beyond what was normally spoken, barely flashing necessary smiles and seeming to almost skirt around each other. And when he touched her, leading her across the stage or adjusting her form, it was with his fingers wrapped around her bicep or wrist, guiding her with the smallest movements. On the surface, they held no emotions, but they possessed a softness reserved only for her as his fingers glided across her arm.

The rest of the cast had barely noticed. Maybe to them Derek was nicer, more forgiving, but the excitement of _Bombshell_'s success had changed them all for the better. With the exception of Ivy, the cast was all around overjoyed nearly every minute of the day, whether practicing blocking or taking late night shots after a performance, the entire production crew buzzed with and air of ill-concealed smugness and delight. At least for now, they had done it. _Bombshell _was the hit that it deserved to be.

It was twenty-four days and 11 dates later that _Bombshell _made it's final preview performance in Boston, to yet another standing ovation, and Karen let out a slight sigh of relief when she exited the stage. She had two whole days, a full 48 hours until she had to worry herself about Marilyn again, and she relished in the idea. The show would be moving to New York; not to Broadway, not nearly yet, but to a small stage for a few showings before heading to other cities across the nation, and Karen delighted in the idea of the closeness and comfort of her home town, as New York had newly replaced Iowa.

She changed quickly, washing off the more outrageous stage make-up and slowly making her way to the door amongst a wave of praise and congratulations and making for the back door. She smiled gratefully at each newcomer, gracefully accepting hugs and returning smiles, but politely fended off her friends' wishes for drinks before escaping out the back door to the alley. She waited only several moments, hopping up and down in the cold, before the door swung open and Derek hopped down the stairs, and they silently made their way down the street towards a busy intersection. Once satisfied with their cover from the crowd and their distance from the theater, Derek laced his arm delicately through hers and Karen rested her head on his shoulder.

She let out an exhausted sigh and yawned, but smiled when she felt a laugh rumble through his chest. She shook her head and he smiled down at her.

"You can't be tired yet darling," He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "Our journey to Broadway has barely begun."

"I'm fine," Karen yawned again and leaned more of her weight against him. "I'm not drained just yet. A bit exhausted is all."

"Well if it's too much for you," He teased. "We could always bring in someone else-"

Karen frowned, jostling him with playful anger and Derek stumbled sideways, laughing as he went.

"Not funny," Karen stated through a smile. Derek continued to laugh as she slipped her hand into his and shook her head. "And you wouldn't dream of such a thing, I know that." Derek raised his eyebrows in indignation.

"You never know Love," Karen twirled away from him and laughed as he frowned after her. "You never know."

"You wouldn't," Karen was deadpanned, and Derek shrugged. "And anyway, demoting me would make me far less interesting, wouldn't it?"

"Hmm," Derek mussed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and following her as she paced across the intersection. "Far less enticing, I suppose."

"Indeed," Karen turned back to him. "Then I would be the same boring old nobody I was before-"

"And you know my feelings for you would not waver in the slightest." Derek raised her hand and kissed it in his signature way. Karen giggled slightly.

"Flirt."

"That I am darling," Derek leaned into her, and for the briefest moment they shared the same air, but the director stopped and Karen pulled away before their lips could meet. Smiling a slightly more confused and uncertain smile, Karen skipped ahead to push open the door to the diner, and Derek pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Tease." The director muttered under his breath, quiet enough for Karen not to hear, but beamed as he walked into the eatery.

And a tease she was, but he himself was not entirely innocent on that front. Both of them seemed to be dancing around each other, their comfortable chatter and banter intermittent with the incredibly more uncertain moments of closeness, simultaneously sending shivers and shudders up his spine. This sort of toying with his emotions was something he was far more used to controlling, not having inflicted on himself, and yet, he could tell that the affect was entirely unintentional on her part. Her nerves and naiveté took control when he moved in too close, and she would slip away, revert into herself, question every word she spoke, every move she made. So he kept his distance, and she kept hers, and they conjured a rather joyful, pleasant relationship, if you will.

"I never thought of you as the diner type," Derek slipped into the booth across from her, grinning as she picked up a menu.

"And I never thought I'd see you in a diner," Karen scanned the menu, not looking up as he smirked at her, but her eyes sparkled in the light. "Yet here we are."

"Here we are indeed," Derek said thoughtfully, starring off across the crowded room in silence, but glancing back down at the menu after a moment. They ordered food, sipped drinks, talked about nothing, and ate comfortably for several minutes. Eventually, Karen looked up at him with an heir of expectation.

"So, what are you going to do? When we get back to New York?" She picked a french fry off his plate and chewed it thoroughly. Derek shrugged.

"Nothing, I'll work on the show I suppose," Derek pulled his plate slightly closer, smirking, and Karen stuck out her tongue.

"The show doesn't need work, you know that," Karen dipped into her food again, starring at him idly.

"It always needs work Love," Karen laughed. "And it always will. No matter how good it gets."

"_I_ think-" Derek rolled his eyes and Karen slapped him playfully across the booth. He chuckled quite loudly. "Well, I think it's pretty good, in all honesty. And many people seem to agree with me."

"But it could be better," Karen shook her head, and almost defeated look on her face, and Derek shrugged in bemusement. He leaned forward slightly. "And you? How will you be spending your time?"

Karen folded her napkin and pushed her plate slightly away from her, and Derek followed suit after a moment. She starred at the table as she spoke. "I don't know. Enjoy our couple days off I guess, the ensemble will probably want to go out," Derek nodded, and the waitress cleared their dishes. Karen ran a finger along the cracks in the linoleum table, watching her hands with excessive deliberation as Derek kept his eyes on her face. "I'll probably go get my stuff from Dev's."

There it was. Sighing, the director leaned back in the cushioned seat, arms folded, and starred at her when she met his eyes. She looked almost embarrassed. "Will you me alright?" Karen nodded once.

"Yes. Yeah, I'll be fine." It was quite clearly a lie, as both of them were aware, but Derek chose to ignore that. He nodded too.

"Alright," Karen looked at him gratefully, and smiled a small half-smile.

"Alright."

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They returned to New York the following morning, Karen traveling with the other chorus members, the rest of the production team making their own separate ways back to the great city. With no rehearsal, the cast took full advantage of their lack of constraints surrounding their hours of sleep, and proceeded quickly to the bar. Karen followed, laughing and enjoying herself though feeling slightly distant from the others as they drank and ate.

Once returned to her room, she slept for quite a while, rejoicing in the pleasures of relaxation after sneaking off to a hotel when her friends hand returned to their respective apartments. However, the reason for her situation only returned to her when she woke up the next morning and opened her rather sparsely occupied suitcase.

Dreading every step she took, she waited in the neighborhood until around noon before approaching her apartment with a slight grimace on her face. More like former apartment, she realized as she ascended the stairs. She was fully aware that Dev's name was on the lease, not hers, and she did not need him to tell her. She also did not need an further encounters with the man, and her hands shook slightly as she tentatively opened the door.

There was no one there, just as she expected of one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. Slowly, almost too deliberately, she made her way back to the bedroom and pulled her only other suitcase out from under the bed, flipping it open and beginning to unload the clothes from their shared closet. Taking as much into her arms as she could, she dumped it into the suitcase, her face emotionless.

It took nearly two hours, one hundred and twenty minutes of blank, dispassionate eyes as she piled together jewelry, photos, anything she could label as her own, and dropped them unceremoniously into her luggage. As the task seemed to become more and more tedious, she worked herself into a mad frenzy, tearing things from shelves and drawers, flying through the tiny living space and scooping up anything she could find. She felt the tears, burning red hot against the back of her eyes, poking at the corners and prodding her skin, but she ignored them. She wouldn't cry any more.

She closed her bag with a more then satisfied and defiant zip of the zipper, and pulled it behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. She looked back once, her key glinting on the counter, and nodded her head enigmatically as she slammed the door. She would not sleep at all that night, but she was confident in the fact that she would never see Dev again. And despite the certain amount of happiness she felt, her mind continued to reel, her throat choking on air, and she felt herself shaking as she collapsed into a taxi. She rubbed her hands into her eyes, feeling a headache brewing in the back of her mind, and groaned. She needed some release.

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Derek stood outside the door, his eyes nervous, his hands fidgeting. Should he knock? Shouldn't he? Was she even here? What if she wasn't? He-

He tapped on the door, three loud, sharp raps, and he heard a shuffling of movement from inside.

"Who is it?" Karen's voice echoed, muffled but unmistakable, through the wood, and he sighed as a weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Derek."

"Oh," she sounded surprised, but then again, why shouldn't she be? "Come in, it's unlocked." Turning the handle experimentally, the door easily swung open and he stepped into small hotel room. Three suitcases lying on the bed, two closed, the other spilling clothes, and Karen stood in the midst of it. Her gaze fixed on the wall opposite her and to his left; she was dressed in a long tank top and leggings, her rehearsal outfit complete with the proper heels. As Derek entered, her was mid twirl, and as she watched, her body rose and twisted, legs moving forward, back, forward, back in quick time as her mouth moved faintly. In the silence that followed, he could hear her mumbling to herself, several lines of National Pastime spilling out to reach his ears. But of course he had recognized the dance immediately, from the very first twist.

"Um, hello," Karen looked over at him, breaking eye contact with the wall and smiling a harassed smile as she continued to dance. Derek watched her, one eyebrow raised.

"Hi," She said rather breathlessly, crossing one foot over the other and extending a hand to the right, her face flashing him that smile before turning away. He watching for a long moment, her lips quivering as she breathed the lyrics. After a second, she looked back up at him, not stopping her work but looking politely confused. "Sorry, do you need something?"

"No," Derek said with a little smile, though he felt a flush creeping up his neck. Karen smiled at him.

"Oh, okay," Silence again, and he watched with a kind of fascination as she preformed the moves in such close quarters. She had moved seamlessly into Let's Be Bad without hesitation. She looked at him again, quickly and looked away. "Stop."

"What?" Derek started.

"You're making me nervous," He watched, laughing, as a soft blush crept across her cheeks, and she looked away. Derek chuckled.

"Darling, I watch you everyday," Derek crossed his arms and starred at her. Karen shrugged. "It's my job."

"But I can't see you from the stage," Karen pointed out, and Derek quirked his eyebrow. Karen's dancing slowed to a halt. "Right now you're . . . just right there."

"You didn't have a problem with that during the workshop," Derek countered, and Karen sighed. He shook his head, still smiling, but help up his hands in defeat and turned his back. "I'm sorry; continue."

"You don't have to turn around," Karen laughed, but Derek had stuffed his hands in his pockets and was already studying the room. He heard her feet begin to move again, and he counted the time unconsciously in his head. It was Wolf for sure.

"You have your phone, don't you?" Karen pushed a piece of hair out of her face, looking somewhat bewildered, and nodded.

"Uh, yeah," She dipped and slid several inches sideways. "It's on the nightstand. Why?"

Without answering, Derek crossed the room and picked up the apple product, turning it over in his hands and pressing a button. Five new messages and six missed calls. He sighed.

"Were you calling me?" Derek looked up and shrugged, running a hand through his hair as he put down the device.

"Yes," The statement was matter-of-fact, yet Karen smiled where she should have been dismayed.

"Sorry," She clapped, kicking one leg forward. Already her eyes were locked on the center of the wall beside him. "I got caught up in . . . I got distracted."

"So I see," Derek watched as her eyes glazed over slightly. "Any specific reason why, exactly?"

"No," Karen lied blatantly. "Any specific reason why you were calling me and have now shown up at my door."

Caught up in the act of the performance, she spun, preparing to mime her fall into a chorus members arms, and stumbling when she felt a presence beneath her feet. Crying out in slight shock, her reacted instinctively as she reached out her arms to brace her fall, and found something warm and solid supporting her. Both things –the cause of her fall and of her rescue- turned out to be Derek, which she realized rather quickly as the smell of strong cologne enfolded her. Turning, her found her heaving chest rather close to his, those eyes twinkling ever so slightly, and very quickly she completed the move, spinning out and away from him.

He complied, extending his hand, yet at the last instant, his fingers wrapped around hers, and she nearly stumbled forward into him again. Watching her for a moment, his gaze almost calculating, he reached out a hand and took her other, touching her fingers and delicately tilting them as they hovered in a kind of arch above her head. Seemingly unsatisfied, he stepped closer, still gripping her other hands, his eyes gazing at the top of her head. Deftly and very slowly, he pushed a piece of hair off her forehead and behind her ear.

Karen stepped away, face instantly hot and flushed, hands finding the edge of her shirt and tugging on it nervously. Derek looked almost apologetic as his gaze met her, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and rubbing his face as he opened his mouth to speak, but Karen cut him off before he could do so. Still very confused, she bit her lip between pauses.

"So . . . so were you bringing work?" She asked quietly, gesturing to the thick folder he had laid on the bed, which had been previously tucked under his arm. Derek shook his head.

"Uh, no. I was going to work at a café or something, somewhere outside of the my flat, but . . ." Here Derek looked at the rug, one hand raising to rub the back of his neck. "I got rather worried."

"Worried?" Karen asked, surprised, as though unsure of what could possibly have worried him. The director shrugged.

"You weren't returning my calls, or my messages. And you said earlier you were going to get your stuff from that pricks apartment-" Derek swallowed, as though offering space for Karen to intervene, but she felt at a loss for words. Derek had worried about her? "I was just nervous is all. I didn't know if something had happened."

"You thought Dev had-" She couldn't finish the thought, could barely even construct it. She shuddered.

"I don't know," Derek shrugged and raised his eyebrows at her. "I don't know what I thought. But you're fine. It doesn't matter."

"That was really sweet of you Derek," Karen said quietly after a moment, but Derek shook his head.

"Oh blood hell, don't get all sentimental on me! It was nothing," Karen laughed, but Derek still looked upset, uncomfortable with his outpouring of emotion. Karen crossed the room and took his hand.

"I won't," She smiled, and he smiled back. "But thank you. I appreciate it." And she didn't know what really drove her to do it, but she raised herself up just slightly in her heels and kissed his cheek for a long, soft moment.

It was only when she pulled away that she realized what she had done, and mixture of emotions ran through her. Part confusion, part mortification, part horrified, she starred at him almost opened mouthed and hoped, for once, that her plethora of reactions weren't painted across her face as she new they were. Because deep down inside, she could feel a bubble of warm, fuzzy happiness clawing its way into her consciousness.

Derek, on his part, was rather calm; his eyes starred directly back as hers swam with emotion. There was a terribly long silence, another one to add to the list of the millions of others, and the look of apathy on his face only seemed to increase, if that were possible. Karen took the smallest of steps back from him, dropping their intertwined fingers slowly, and Derek's eyes, for a split second, flickered to her lips.

"I should go," He said quickly, and Karen nodded.

"Yeah, okay," Not looking at him, she crossed the room to the door and held it open as he gathered his folder and assorted spilled papers. Though the urge to act polite tugged at Karen, she could not bring herself to look at him as he stood in the doorway.

"Lunch tomorrow?" Derek offered into the unbearable silence, and Karen looked at him gratefully.

"Yes, alright. Sounds great." Derek smirked.

"See you then," And with that, Karen almost unconsciously slammed the door, turning to lean her back against it and sliding down into a sitting position against the door. She put her head in her hands for a moment and took long, rather shaky breaths.

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**Completed. Reviews are wonderful, wonderful creatures, and fuel more updates. New chapter up very, very soon, I promise!**


	7. Chapter 7

**See! I updated much sooner! Just like I said! Well, I can't remember if I said that, but the chapter is here, so hurray! Thanks so, so, so much for reading, favoriting, and especially to everyone who has reviewed. It really makes my day so much brighter! Here you have it:**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Smash, we wouldn't be waiting until next February for the next season to start . . . but very sadly, it is not so.**

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Karen stood in the wings, peeking out from behind the curtain and watching as the theater seats filled. Taking a moment to herself, she smiled and breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the deep, cedar scent of the stage and the hum of anticipation. She was here, in New York, preforming as Marilyn.

They weren't on Broadway, not nearly yet, but as far as she was concerned, nearly every one of her aspirations had become a reality. To play the leading part of a musical in New York, with all it's flashing lights and abundance of artists and art lovers. This, she thought, was what she lived for; this was the reason she had moved to New York in the first place. For the grandness, the excitement, and the sense of expectancy that filled the entire auditorium. She felt her chest swell with pride, a wide smile spreading across her face, and she glanced along the faces that were already seating themselves. She was ready to wow them, every single last one, and she-

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her chest constrict. Her ribs caved in, as though collapsing in on themselves from underneath some great weight, and her palms began to sweat. Biting her lip, she peeled her eyes away from the figure in the second row and leaned against a wooden patrician beside the curtain. Just calm down, she thought repetitively as she attempted to breath deeply. Just relax, and breath-

Mind still reeling, she pushed past a crowd that was beginning to form in the wings, and sprinted back to her dressing room. Once there, she collapsed into a chair and squeezed her eyes shut as a sense of dread began to fill her.

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Derek stood outside her dressing room door, smiling, and raised his hand to knock. She had been so excited yesterday at lunch, overcome with joy at the prospect of their first performance post-previews. He too relished in her excitement, if only to see her smile more and laugh easily, but he looked forward to the idea of their first true, genuine performance. There was no longer any question: _Bombshell_ would be the hit it deserved to be and was already well on it's way there. With Miss Cartwright leading them, there was no uncertainty in him that they would go far.

"Come in," Her voice was quite, laced with what he took to be nerves, but the moment he pushed the door open he could sense something was wrong. She stood in front of the mirror, eyes glazed and distant as she adjusted her Norma Jean wig, and her movements were slow and distracted.

Turning, she realized who it was and a small, strained smile pulled at her lips. "Oh, hey," She turned back to the mirror, and slipped another bobby pin in very slowly. Derek stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a slight frown as she worked, and he could see lines of worry furrowed in her brow. Though she was always gorgeous, anxious Karen was far less becoming then modestly confident, childishly excited Karen who usual bounced around the dressing room, and so he didn't beat around the bush.

"Karen, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," She said, too fast and too high-pitched. She took a shaky breath. "I'm fine."

In several strides he had crossed the room, and laid a hand on her shoulder as she starred at his reflection. Derek shook his head, and said, "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Karen bit her lip and looked down at her small table as she breathed in and out. "It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?" Ever persistent and worried, Derek turned Karen too him and tried to meet her eyes, but she looked away. He pushed a piece of her own brown hair beneath the wig and felt her stiffen in his grasp, and he tenderly released her and stepped back. She still wouldn't look at him.

"Dev's here," Derek felt his own heart skip and beat, and a deep frown set in.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" Karen asked, her agitation getting the better of her.

"I mean he didn't try to come back here, did he?" Karen shook her head.

"No, he's just here, in the seats." She looked up at him, her eyes impossibly wide and tender, searching his face for comfort. And though he knew that's what she wanted, but for the life of him he couldn't muster sympathy. He knew he wasn't a man of many feelings, but why the bloody hell should Karen care that Dev was here? The man was a rat, obviously disgusting and unwanted. Derek simply starred back at her, waiting for her to speak.

"Oh." Karen looked at him, frowning.

"Oh?"

"Oh, I just said oh."

"Well, what do you mean, oh?" She crossed her arms over her chest and starred at him, but Derek only raised his eyebrows.

"I mean oh, ok, he's here. Why?"

"I don't know why he's here, why the hell are you asking me?"

"Karen, calm down," Derek put a hand on her shoulder, but she back away, looking at him almost incredulously.

"Don't you have anything to say? He's here."

"And?" Karen uncrossed her arms a starred at him, eyes now alive with fury.

"And?" Karen repeated his words, fully annoyed now, and Derek looked only confused. "And what?"

"I don't know," Derek closed his eyes tightly. "And what about that is upsetting you?"

"What about that . . ." Karen's voice trailed off, incredulous, and Derek pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation. "He's here, and all you have to say for yourself is 'and'?"

"Well what do you want me to say?" Derek, utterly bewildered by her anger and his own lack of appropriate words, found his volume escalating slightly. He kept it at a normal level with difficulty.

"I'm not going to tell you what I want you to say," Karen almost spat, her voice rising more and more hysterically with every word. "That's your job Derek; you're supposed to know what to say!"

"Well, I'm sorry. I don't understand what you want me to-"

"Oh for God's sake!" Karen cried, fully exasperated, and turned away to face the wall beside him. Derek moved around so he could face her.

"Do you want me to do something about it? Get rid of him?"

"No," Karen looked back at the ground, but he could feel the anger radiating from her, and the disappointment. "I just wanted you to - . . . No, it doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't," In a flurry of motion, she reached down and grabbed her Marilyn wig from the table, making her way towards the door.

Derek followed persistently in her wake. "What do you want me to say?" Derek asked fervently, trying to move in front of her as she pushed her way into the hallway. "Darling, I'm not going to be able to tell you anything you don't already know."

"I just thought . . . " She didn't look at him, starring in front of her as she stalked out of the room, but Derek easily kept pace beside her. "I thought you might understand."

"Understand what?" Karen sighed, and shook her head. Though she still came off as angry, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

"It doesn't matter," Karen frowned as she strutted quickly down the hall, but he stepped in front of her. She glowered up at him.

"Karen, wait-"

"I have to be get to the stage, Derek." She made to push past him, but he held out a hand.

"Listen, Karen, darling," He starred at her. "I'm not going to coddle you-"

She all but exploded at that, though her words remained a hushed whisper. "I don't want you to! I just thought you might care."

"Of course I care, I just-"

"No, you don't, you don't understand!" Karen said sharply, and pushed past his grasp. "I just thought you might care about me, Derek. Not about Marilyn. But apparently it's not about me personally, it's about the show."

"Karen-"

"And all that heartbreak is good, right?" She said sarcastically, throwing his words back at him. "I'll just do what the show needs me to do. You don't care about m-"

"Miss Cartwright," Derek said forcefully, almost reaching out to hold her back before she stopped at his words. She starred at him in the silence of the empty hallway. Someone called five minute warning. "You know as well as I do that isn't true-"

She stalked away, twisting out of his grasp and shaking her head like a petulant child, but all he could see was the anger and sadness in her eyes, tears almost beginning to pull at them. He felt only confusion, dismayed at his unintentional causing such despondency, and all he could hope was that Karen was overcome with nerves and adrenaline –which she would quickly overcome-, and that Dev wouldn't cross her mind. Hopefully, the British pricks would keep their mouths shut. Both of them.

But for the rest of the show, she was off. Not terribly so, she was still enchanting, yet that easiness she had displayed was masked by a certain tension that maybe only he could feel. She was not as mesmerizing as she had been.

He tried to approach her at intermission, but she avoided him, staying within the tight-knit group of the chorus and ignoring him. All together confused by her attitude shift and anxiety towards Dev, it took him the entire second act to work up the gumption to approach her. And even then, it was only in a way he was comfortable with.

Her hands slipped on bracelets and adjusted earrings. His delicately found their way to her waist. It was so small, he now realized, so delicate and fragile, his fingers grazing her hips as though handling a bird. It was entirely different from touching any other woman he had been with. Karen did not react, pulling up the gold sequined straps, but he knew she registered his presence.

"Your performance has been wonderful, love," Derek bent over to whisper in her ear, but Karen barely turned to look at him. "Though not quite up to par with what you've done before."

Now that evoked a response. He saw her eyes roll and she scoffed under her breath. "Thanks Derek, how observant of you. Your wisdom is much appreciated."

"That isn't a bad thing," Derek continued as though she had not spoken, watching as Michael stepped out into the spotlight. "You have this last song to dazzle them as you always do-"

"Oh knock it off Derek," the phrase had become all too familiar to him, and he frowned as he heard her say it. "You know just as well as I do that I can't do it."

For a split second, there was silence, then Derek leaned slightly closer. "Why?"

"Because he's here," Karen said after a moment, and he could see tears poking at the corners of her eyes. "He's here, watching me, and I can't do it."

"Karen," Derek said, his voice firm but soft, and he saw her squeeze her eyes shut as her chest rose and fell with constrained sobs. "You are bigger then he is. Stronger then he is. You are incredible and independent and better off without him." She nodded only slightly, biting her bottom lip. "And you need to show him that, tonight."

"But I can't-"

"We both know that is a lie, darling." Derek breathed, and Michael began to sing. "You are so much greater then he is, you've accomplished so much more then he'll ever," And Derek leaned in even closer, almost brushing her ear with his lips. "And Dev was a prick to push you away the way he did, and an _idiot _to let you go."

And now Karen turned, wanting to face him and see the look she knew Derek's eyes would hold, but as she did, she felt his hands slip away, and by the time she would have faced him, he was gone. For a moment, she felt a wave of dejection wash over her, then she turned to Linda.

"How much time do I have?" The older woman glanced up at Michael.

"Fifteen seconds, but Karen-" Without another moment of waiting, Karen took off away from the stage, pushing her way directly behind the back stage curtain and taking off across the stage. It was utterly and entirely black, and she could barely see the other figure in the narrow passage, but she could just make out his tousled hair and slow, easy gate. She sprinted towards him.

"Derek," She hissed, a mixture of a thousand emotions in her voice, and he turned just in time to watch her come to halt before him. For barely a moment, she looked at him, her eyes directly level with his in her heels, and she slipped her hands around his neck.

Kissing Karen Cartwright was mesmerizing, to say the very least. Her lips, soft and warm, slightly waxy with that deep Marilyn red, seemed almost unreal as they very gently brushed his. He could barely managed to make himself react, every nerve inside him was alive and dancing, sending thrilling quivers up his spine. He felt his hands shudder, trembling above her waist for the faintest of moments before gently resting on the sequin textured gown, and he finally felt himself register enough to realize he was kissing her back. His body jumped as though touched with an electric wire, his mind alive and acutely aware of their closeness, of her hands unconsciously tickling the back of his neck, of her chest rising and falling, just barely brushing his. And he felt an unprecedented joy fill him, because he has here, in the absolute darkness behind the curtain, his hands shaking uncertainly as he longed to pull her closer, their lips pressed together for the briefest and most wonderful of moments. He thought, with a smile that this would never end.

But then she had pulled away, slowly and tenderly, and in the complete and utter darkness he could see only her eyes, huge and shinning as they looked up at him, and he noticed now that she had dropped her hands to her side. Fumbling for only a moment, her found them, wrapping her smaller fingers in his larger ones and starring unblinking into those immense, glowing eyes. He squeezed her fingers gently, and for the briefest of moments, he saw a smile spread across her face.

And she was gone, disappearing the way she had come before he had time to register her vanishing. He stood, paralyzed for a moment before jogging the rest of the way across the stage, pushing his way to the front of the crowded wing in time to watch her hit her mark perfectly and give the most beautiful rendition of the song he had ever heard. And despite the underlying melancholy of the melody, a smile pulled almost uncontrollably at the corners of her lips, and the expression that took over her face was one of breathtaking beauty.

She was belting the last note far too soon for his liking, and the audience was standing, clapping, shouting and whistling as she threw her arms back and the lights fell, Marilyn fading in behind her. For a split second he stood and clapped among the others, but by the time she was turning toward the wing, Derek was already making his way back through the ensemble and towards a side door. Pushing it open, he made his way swiftly out from backstage and through the aisles as the crowd continued to stand and cheer while the performers rushed on stage for bows.

And he would have liked nothing better then to be there, standing and applauding and beaming as Karen exited the stage, but instead he pushed open the outermost door to the theater, stepping into the tepid night air and moving to stand in the shadows to the side. There he waited, standing just outside the theater with his arms crossed and his body tensed, watching as people slowly began to trickle through the door. He had unfinished business to take care of.

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**K&D kiss! Alright, so was it up to par with what it could have been? Was it too soon? Ah well, I was getting antsy just writing it, though I probably should have had more build-up or anticipation or whatever, but ce la vie. Please leave a review if the urge strikes you, and I will be back soon. Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all so much for the incredible positive feedback for the last chapter! It is always so wonderful and incredibly inspiring; thank you, thank you, and thank you. So here is chapter eight, less Karen and Derek in this one and more Derek confronts Dev. It's a little shorter then I'd like it to be, but I'll make the next one extra long! Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own these words and nothing more.**

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"What the- Hey, bloody hell, get your hands off of me!" Derek, ignoring the other Brit's cries, kept his firm hold around his arm and dragged him through the crowd of musical-goers. The task was fairly simple –the more theater knowledgeable individuals of the crowd simply parted like some great sea. The prick, however, was being far from easy to manage, and finally, with one last shove, Derek hurled him around the corner and into the dark alley to the side of the theater. There, they stood several feet apart, both pairs of eyes glaring at the other, and Dev gently massaged his arm.

"Christ, you could lay off a bit, couldn't you-"

"Oh grown up," Derek interjected, any attempt at respectfulness already abandoned, and rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a twit."

Dev did not respond, merely dropping his hands to his sides and starring at the director, anger glinting in his eyes. Under the stress of his anger and the company of only the other Brit, Derek could feel the barrier he kept against his English heritage slipping. But hell, the other man would bloody well know what he was saying; Derek assumed he wasn't that thick. The older Brit took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that filled him, and Dev finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," Dev sneered, sarcasm lacing every facet of his being. "But do you want something, or could you piss off?"

"I just," Derek groaned inwardly and balled his hands into fist. He needed to be the bigger man. "I needed to tell you -before you heard it from any one of the blasted blogs or whatever- that Karen and I are together-" The younger man's eyes widened only slightly, but his chest began to rise and fall more heavily. "But at no point during your . . ." Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "Relationship, was she ever with me, in any way, shape or form." There was a small silence.

"Well you're just chuffed then, aren't you?" Derek frowned, shaking his head, but Dev's face was read with anger. "You get to come out here and tell me you're banging my ex-"

"We aren't-" Derek interjected, cutting the other Brit off and rubbing the creases from his forehead. "We're not sleeping together." Dev scoffed, turning his back on the director and shaking his head, and though Derek felt rage flare yet again in the pit of his stomach, he could understand Dev's skepticism.

"Do you think I'm daft?" Dev shook his head again. "You're a bleeding pitiful liar."

"We are not sleeping together, alright?" Derek felt himself loosing control, and ran a hand through his hair. Dev shook his head again.

"You might as well just tell me, you know," Dev smiled contemptuously. "That way you can see the look on my face-"

"Bloody hell! This isn't about you!" Derek cried, and Dev fell silent, though his face still bore a smirk. "This bloody well isn't about you, it's about Karen, ok! I don't need you barging in on her when you find out, brandishing some bloody tabloid and hurting her any more then you already have-"

"So this isn't about her then," Dev said, in an attempt Derek could only assume was toward defiance. "This is about your blasted show, and her performance. Because the critics and the crew will be brassed off when she isn't up to par."

"This is entirely about her, and not about the show at all," Derek found himself calming, feeding off the other man's anger to fuel his composure. But still, he could not contain himself. "You really are rather blunt, aren't you?"

Dev laughed, an angry, sickly laugh laced with vengeance, and intertwined his fingers behind his head. Having turned back to Derek, he paced several steps to his right, then his left.

"I just can't believe it's you, that's all," He laughed again, the noise hallow and empty, and Derek raised his eyebrows.

"Me that what?"

"I bloody well can't believe she's getting off with you, that you're fucking her-" Derek growled unintentionally, his hands balling into fists, but shoved them into his pockets.

"We aren't 'getting off' together," Dev rolled his eyes, but Derek ignored him. "And you might want to show a right amount of respect, alright? A little decency?"

"That's thick, coming from an arse like you," Dev continued to pace back and forth, his feet splashing on the damp asphalt, and Derek only eyed him.

"What the bleeding hell are you on about?" Derek snapped, loosing his patience, and Dev stopped moving to stare at him.

" 'You really are rather blunt, aren't you?' " Dev mimicked, throwing the older Brit's insult back at him, and Derek frowned. "You think just because you're some posh director, and because you fancy her, you can take her however you want-"

"Shut up!" Derek stormed forward, raising his hand above his head and lunging forward, but he stopped himself. Tipping forward slightly, he caught his balance and watched with slight satisfaction as the other man flinched backwards. Instead, Derek grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved him backwards, towering over him and raising Dev's feet slightly off the ground.

"I-"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that, like she's a possession, you blinkered prat," Derek growled and shook him only slightly, dropping the younger man and shoving him again. Dev stumbled, but steadied after a moment, and Derek brushed himself off. "She is not a thing; she is an incredible young woman, and it was your loss for leaving her-"

"I didn't leave her," Dev retorted, puffing out his chest slightly. "It was complicated, and it was between us-"

"And so you decided to 'get off' with Ivy instead?" Dev fell silent, but his hands were still clenched into fists. "Ivy? Really, Ivy? You couldn't be more of a sod, could you?"

"Look," Dev said, deflating, and Derek watched as his shoulders slumped. "I just want to talk to her, alright? I just want to see her."

"Well, you've seen her," Derek snapped back, his anger unwavering, and he was not ready to pity the younger man. "And I'm right certain that she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Well maybe if you weren't in the way!" Dev bellowed, but his shoulders still sagged, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Look, it's not my fault you cocked up," Derek frowned, and Dev scowled. "And you're not about to come here and try to chat her up."

"I don't want-"

"She's not as dim as you seem to think," Derek scowled and shoved his hand into his pockets, and pushed his shoulders back. Even without standing up, he was several inches taller then the other Brit, and he relished it. "You're not going to win her back, she deserves so much more then a sod like you-"

"So she deserves you, then?" Dev bit back, and Derek felt his stomach drop. "Someone who sexually harassed her?"

"I didn't-"

"What, so that doesn't qualify as harassment?" Derek ran a hand through his hair, and he felt his confidence slipping, Dev raised his hands in the air and stalked forward several steps. "You blackmail her, threaten her, try to force her to shag you? That's what she deserves? Someone who thinks with his tosser-"

"Alright, enough!" Derek bellowed, and he found his hands were sweating as he dropped then behind his neck. He shook his head, his eyes suddenly filled with sadness, and his shoulders slumped to. Both of them stood, Dev uncertain and Derek looking rather defeated, and the older Brit smiled a rather sad smile. "She doesn't deserve you, but she doesn't deserve me. God, she deserves so much more then a prat like me."

"Yes, she does," And even when Derek was humble, even when he was groveling, Dev couldn't take it. Derek frowned.

"This isn't some kind of fling, okay? I'm not about to one off with her," Derek bit back, not allowing his anger to show through again. Dev backed up several paces and rubbed his palms into his eyes. "She's a wonderfully gifted and marvelous woman, and even if I was never to sleep with her, I would gladly be with her forever."

And Derek felt himself freeze at his own words. Was that really how he felt? A terrible anxiety jumped into his stomach, his heart leaping into his throat, but at the same time a bubble of joy seemed to burst within him. Because that was how he felt about her, and he knew it. Of course he wanted to sleep with Karen, any man would, but he would undoubtedly sacrifice this in order to spend the rest of his life with her. To live all his days with Karen Cartwright seemed, at this point, to be the most delightful thing that he could possibly think of. And he would do anything he could to make certain of his wishes. He would do anything for Karen.

"Well you better not bang her," Derek sighed and rolled his eyes, having entirely forgotten Dev's presence to only be reminded by his oh-so witty come back, and he refocused his gaze to find Dev starring at him, attempting to be obstinate. The younger man stuck out his chin slightly, and Derek scoffed.

"I'm going to punch you," And he did, balling his hand into a tight fist and swinging forward with his entire body, throwing his shoulder into it with as much force as he could. His knuckles connected with a solid crunch against the other man's upper jaw just below his eye, and there was a satisfying crack as Dev's body snapped sideways. He fell, collapsing in a mess of limbs into a puddle that had collected near the wall opposite the theater, and a faint cry of pain and surprise escaped as he tumbled onto the concrete.

Sitting up after several seconds, Dev's upper body swayed slightly as he reached up to prod his face, and a trickle of blood began to flow from his nose. Looking down, Derek frowned as he saw several flecks of blood on his fist, and wiped them unceremoniously on the wall behind him. He watched as Dev grimaced, cracked his jaw, and attempted to pick himself up off the ground without success. Derek starred at him.

"Don't come back, it's only going to make you look more pathetic," he stated, not breaking eye contact with the younger man, and Dev starred back as best he could. The politician winced as he poked his smarting cheek, which was already beginning to swell. "You've seen the show, there's nothing more for you here," And Derek stalked off down the alley, not looking back even as he emerged into the light of the streetlamps and disappeared into the thinning crowd of musical attendees.

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**So there's chapter eight! Again, a little shorter then I would have liked, but how was the Derek vs. Dev confrontation? Please let me know in a review, if you feel the urge to. I have a few different ideas of where to take the story from here, I have yet to settle on one, but I will be back as soon as possible! Thank you for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright, chapter nine! Hurray! Again, special thanks to everyone who has review this story so far, as well as added to alerts or favorites. Really, it is incredible! Absolutely wonderful! So I know you all might kill me, but I don't believe Karen is quite ready to totally fall head over heels for Derek quite yet. I know, I know, it will happen soon, very soon, but I've got to have a little suspense! A bit of build-up! In any case, hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Smash, I own not.**

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Karen Cartwright was terrified.

Despite the fact that she knew she shouldn't be, despite the applause pouring over her in waves, the exhilaration would not rush over her in the way it usually did. Instead, a deep-set panic filled her, pinching her lungs and filling her chest, and as the company rushed out to join her for bows, she almost unconsciously lowered her hand to her lips. For the briefest of moment, her fingertips trailed across her mouth, feather light, and though her lips weren't puffy or swollen, her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably.

As soon as the ensemble trailed off stage, Karen dashed through them, dodging friends and compliments and diving into her dressing room. There she slammed the door and turned to lean against it, rubbing her hands into her eyes. Her entire jaw was beginning to shake.

She sprinted across the room, throwing aside the rack of costumes and huddling behind it. The corner wasn't nearly as secluded as it had been in Boston, but as she drew the rack of clothes back, the space was cast into dark shadow. Here she sat, knees pulled to her chest, head resting on her arms, attempting to control her body as it shuddered without her consent.

She had kissed Derek Wills. Derek Wills, Sauron himself, the Dark Lord. She had kissed him. What the hell was she thinking? Derek Wills, the consummate narcissistic womanizer. Derek Wills, the demanding, perfectionist, over-achieving director. Derek Wills, who had lured her to his apartment and attempted to seduce her via blackmail. She had kissed him. _She_ had kissed him. It hadn't been vise-versa. It had been entirely her; the act instigated and acted out by her and her alone, and he had simply recuperated. She swallowed at the thought, feeling hot tears poke at her closed eyelids.

Because he had kissed her back. Of course he had kissed her back, he took advantage of the situation, as was expected of him. _Well,_ some thought at the back of her mind nagged her, _you put your lips on his. What the hell was he supposed to do? _Of course he had kissed her. But oh, when he had kissed her back.

And here was where the terror took a hold of Karen. Because she had wanted more. God, she had wanted so much more. Despite the jolting touch of his hands, which she still felt like an imprint on her hips, she had wanted him to grab her, to wrap his arm around her and pull her shaking form to him. If there had been unlimited time, she doubted she would have been able to pull away when she did. She wanted him to want her, wanted it so badly that it hurt, and she felt the façade she had constructed around 'playing hard to get' crumbling, to be replaced by true fear. Because she was so afraid of wanting him.

Because when he kissed her back, he wasn't the Derek that she knew, the dark, menacing figure in the billowing coat. When he kissed her back, when he ghosted his hands over her hips, he seemed almost _nervous_, a word entirely juxtaposed with the director that she –and the rest of the world- knew. When he kissed her, Derek was timid and soft and gentle, so much so that she felt herself leap as though touched with an electric spark. When he kissed her back, he was the Derek that held her hand as they walked through the streets, the Derek that was concerned about her, who came to check on her when he was worried. He was the Derek who laughed with her and kissed her hand and believed in her –the only one to believe in her- when she was at her lowest of lows. And it was more frightening then anything she'd ever experienced

Because even if he had feelings for her, she knew that he could never want her. He was toying with her, of course he was, and she was falling into his trap perfectly. She was the new girl; young, fresh and inexperienced. And oh course, she was the star. His star, as he had said, which almost demanded that he sleep with her. _Just like Ivy_, she thought bitterly, _and Rebecca, and everyone before that_. And she was practically falling into his arms. She felt sick with herself, her shaking replaced by a horrible ache in the pit of her stomach, and she felt the tears begin to leak out, streaking across her face. She couldn't, the couldn't-

"What, so that doesn't qualify as harassment?" Karen looked up suddenly, lifting her head from her chest and looking around. "You blackmail her, threaten her-" Karen stood up, pushing herself to her feet and starring around cautiously. The room was dark and deserted, the only noise coming faintly through the door to the backstage, and Karen furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Alright, enough!" The words were bellowed, and Karen jumped before rushing to the window. Pushing up the pane of glass only slightly, she stuck her head just over the lip of the window and peered out. For a moment, she could only hear murmurs, then through the silence: "God, she deserves so much more then a prat like me."

Was that Derek? Her eyes widened as she took in his tall form, hands draped behind his neck, mouth twisted in a sad smile. And across from him, face slightly hidden in shadow, she had to squint to make him out-

"Yes, she does," Dev, unmistakably Dev, and she felt her stomach dropped. She pushed the window open even more and hesitated as she tilted her head to listen at the glass. She shouldn't be listening, it was rude to eavesdrop, and in all honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what either of them had to say.

"This isn't some kind of fling, okay?" Karen could hear the anger in his voice, but the director looked entirely calm and complacent. Dev, on the other hand, only seemed to grow more and more agitated, and rubbed his hands into his eyes. "She's a wonderfully gifted and marvelous woman, and even if I was never to sleep with her, I would gladly be with her forever."

Karen's heart leapt, jumping and lodging itself in her throat, and her hands gripped the windowsill. It couldn't be her; whoever they were talking about, it couldn't be her. There was no possible way. Despite their dinner dates and slow walks home, Karen knew that Derek of all people could never feel for her the way she wished he would.

And yet, the look that spread across his face was one entirely different from any she had seen. He looked completely happy, utterly content at his words as a small smile spread across his face. He seemed so joyful, so absolutely delighted, that Karen found herself smiling as well. But then there was a crack, a churning crunch, and Karen jumped back from the window as Dev crumbled to the ground. Her breath hitched, her mouth not properly taking in oxygen, and she slid into a sitting position yet again. Closing the window with a faint pop, Karen slumped and pressed her palms into her eyes, her body shaking with too many emotions for her to comprehend, and she felt the tears leaking through her fingers. She had no idea why -they may have been out of happiness or anger or fear- but it felt good to watch as each tear spilled away and collapsed to the carpeted floor beneath her.

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Karen stood in front of the mirror, starring at herself slightly awkwardly and attempting to smooth down her dress. She knew perfectly well that it wasn't at all wrinkled, but it gave her a sense of purpose, if nothing else. Mostly, she couldn't meet Derek's eyes as he starred at her from across her small hotel room.

It wasn't that she wasn't excited; when Derek had approached her after rehearsal and taken her aside, explaining quietly the proposition of attending the investors' party Eileen was holding, she had been almost ecstatic. Simply the chance to impress, to bring _Bombshell_ the money and attention it needed, made her chest flutter with excitement, and the fact that she could play a part in that was more then she could hope for.

And yet, as tantalizing as the prospect was, she was tense and cold as she stood before the mirror. Every nerve on edge, she ran a hand through her hair, pulling at it with her fingertips, and she heard Derek chuckle behind her. Turning to look at him, Karen watched as he stood up and walked across the floor, coming to stand behind her and meet her gaze in the mirror. He put a hand around her waist and smiled.

"You look perfectly wonderful darling," He said quietly, but his playful smile fell away as Karen's muscles tensed in agitation beneath the white fabric of her dress. He dropped his hand, attempting to catch her eyes, but Karen looked at the floor and turned away, ignoring his gaze with worried eyes. She picked up her small clutch slowly.

Today marked six weeks since their first dinner, a week and a half since the dreaded kiss and consequently a week and a half since they had exchanged any contact outside of rehearsal. It wasn't that she was avoiding him per say, both of them were simply busy. And, Karen had decided, she wasn't about to go out of her way to talk to him, not with the flutter of nerves and recent memories it brought back. If he wanted to talk to her, he would; and yet, she felt a sickening emptiness as the days whittled on and he didn't approach her. However, she assumed New York was keeping him busy, and she shouldn't be all that upset with his distance anyway.

And so, when he had informed her of tonight, Karen was overwhelmed by a confusing mixture of emotions, and she had finally settled on apprehension when Derek had knocked on her door, ragged dress shirt adorned with a tie of all things, and smiling a beautifully full smile. She exited the room without looking back at him, and nodded only once as he held the door of a taxi open once they had exited her hotel building.

She sat on the far side of the car, head tipped lazily against the glass of the window, and watched as the city lights streamed by. She may have dozed off, she may have not, but she awoke to a gentle shaking and Derek's arm, offered politely as he stood outside the car and waited for her. She took it courteously, wrapping her arm around his as they entered the lavish apartment building, and Karen swallowed audibly as they reached the elevator. She could feel herself beginning to shake, and pushed her shoulders back defiantly.

"Relax," Karen jumped at Derek's whispered words. He laid his other hand on hers, quelling the tremors that she had barely registered as he continued to stare at the opposite wall. Karen risked a glance at his face, taking in the dark shadow that hung over his jaw, and she could see his muscles too were tense.

"I could tell you the same thing."

"Ah, yes. But you," Derek turned and looked at her, his eyes sparkling. "Have nothing to worry about. You are incredibly charismatic."

"Well that's my job, isn't it?" Karen looked away and clutched her bag more tightly. "To be the actress, to play the part."

"True," Derek was still looking at her, and Karen did her best to avoid his gaze though she could see him out of the corner of her eye. "But you don't need to play someone else, you simply need to be you. And people love it, they eat it up." Karen blushed slightly, but Derek didn't seem to notice. "I, on the other hand, was not graced with such apt social skills."

Karen laughed slightly. "You're not some kind of sociopath." Derek looked at her inquisitively. "I've seen you handle yourself perfectly well with other people."

"Have you now?" Derek smirked, and Karen looked away. She watched as the numbers on the elevator display continued to rise. "Well, you must not have registered my pathological hatred for all other human beings."

"Hmm," Karen nodded in ascent, her eyes darting to him and away, and she smiled uncertainly. "I don't believe you can hate everyone."

"Well, most people then," Derek gaze pierced her, burning into the side of her head, but the young woman refused to look at him. Eventually, he leaned into her only slightly. Karen sucked in a sharp breath, and hated herself for it.

"Derek-"

"Play the sex," He said quietly, and Karen turned to look at him. Face entirely serious, he looked back, and she could feel his breath on the tip of her nose. "You can do it, I know you can. Be yourself, but play to Marilyn as much as you can. They need to see that in you." Karen nodded slowly, and Derek smiled.

Slowly, he leaned forward, his lips about to graze her temple, and Karen pulled back sharply. Smiling a strained smile, she saw his brow furrow in confusion. She turned away, biting her lip as the numbers rose still more, and shifting her arm uncomfortably in his grasp. Couldn't this elevator go any faster?

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Derek looked out across the crowd of investors, his mind straying from his current conversation and searching the faces for hers. Almost immediately after they had exited the elevator, Karen had taken off like the frightened bird she was, darting through the crowd and disappearing from his view. He, Derek supposed, was the cat then, which would explain the bird's hesitation at his closeness in the elevator. For when the prey fell for the predator, and vise-versa, things got messy. Derek sipped his scotch and attempted not to groan.

A loud, tinkling laugh. Derek's head snapped around, eyes locking on the figure across the room from him. Head thrown back with laughter, cheeks flushed with the heat of proximity, Karen beamed at the group of investors surrounding her. Derek saw now that she'd pulled her hair up, twisting it into a lazy bun that allowed strands to fall forward, tickling her cheeks. In the buzzing atmosphere of the room, she looked calm and relaxed, her smile easy as the men doted around her.

Like dogs, he though with a slight sneer, he could see them salivating, licking their lips. It made him sick. But Karen was perfect; she glowed with a golden aura only replicated by the bleached blonde icon she portrayed. She laughed again, leaning forward, teeth gleaming, and rested her arm on a dark suit-jacketed shoulder. The man's eyes shinned, gleaming and widening.

Derek stiffened, forehead furrowing, as Karen met the man's eyes with a slightly sultry smile. In her other hand, he could see she gripped a tall martini glass, and as he watched, she downed the rest of it. Her spluttering cough and silly laughter harmonized with the roars of approval from the surrounding company –now multiplied two fold- and a chorus of drink offerings rang through the room. Karen laughed, somewhat giddy, and accepted the liquid proffered by the nearest man.

Nodding and smiling an exuberant smiled, Karen laughed and leaned her weight against the nearest man, feet slightly wobbly as she regained her balance; her surprised look was replaced by an elated laugh as she righted herself and leaned into the other man. Derek ground his teeth slightly, now totally removed from the conversation he was previously engaged in, and he cursed under his breath as he watched the man put is arm around her shoulders.

For the briefest of moments, Karen's eyes flicked to the dark haired investor who's arm was rested across her, her eyes alive with nerves, but in the next instant she was beaming, clinking glasses and laughing that laugh, that oh so Mrs. Monroe laugh that made him want to call her Marilyn. But he didn't, and we watched as the tight knit ring of men moved infinitesimally closer, goaded by their comrades arm draped across her body. Even from across the room, Derek could see her cheeks were growing redder, her chest rising and falling heavily, and her smile slightly harassed. The man fingered the silver shoulder straps of her dress, his movements lazy and drunken.

Derek stepped forward, away from the older men he had been engaged with, and set his scotch down on a table beside him. There were several calls from behind him, confusion and anger at his leaving, but Derek ignored them, and tilted his head slightly to watch as Karen's throng of admirers moved. They seemed to mold with her, folding in and out as she turned or swayed, and always moving just a bit closer. The dark haired man dropped his hand to her waist, pulling her to his side.

As Derek watched, her body shifted uncomfortably, pulling away from the other man and repositioning herself at a safer distance. The prick, however, didn't seem to take the hint. He drummed his fingers along the bone of her hip, plucking at the starched white fabric, staining it with grubby fingers. Derek began to push his way through the throng, his movements punctured by 'excuse me's and 'sorry's. Karen laughed again, accepting another drink and ignoring the man draped across her, happily chatting away with another young man to her left. Derek pushed past a group of women, smirking politely and dropping his smile as they turned away, and walking down a small flight of stairs and making his way across the floor. He was close enough to hear them now, over the hum of conversation.

"Hey, sweetheart," Karen turned back to the dark haired man, face falling into a much more fake smile, and he pulled her into his side again. "Hey, honey, why don't we just get out of here?" His voice slurred slightly, and Karen pulled herself away from him. She raised a hand and put it on his cheek, smiling a friendly smile.

"That's sweet," She said coyly, drink still grasped in her other hand, and though her smile was warm he could see her drink shaking. The man smiled back at her, and another, younger, blonde haired boy put his hand on her other shoulder. "You're all very sweet." A rousing cheer erupted from the group, and the dark haired man pulled her to him again.

"Come on darling," The lighter haired man cheered, and Karen's eyebrows lowered uncomfortably. She shifted her weight again and attempted to move away from the dark haired man, but the rest of the crowd was too thick. His arms wrapped farther around her hips. "Why don't you sing us a round of 'Happy Birthday', Mrs. Monroe?" Cries of approval from the others, and Karen shifted again, smiling an apologetic smile, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry boys . . ." She said, and a chorus of sad groans swept through the group. The dark haired man smiled a sultry smile, and leaned into her, extending his other arm to encircle her waist, trapping her in a close loop, and Karen put her hands out, holding him away from her. Now obviously uncomfortable, she attempted to keep herself an appropriate distance from the other man, but to no avail. Derek pushed past another group of people.

"How about," Very suddenly, the dark haired man dropped his hands to directly below her hips, his hand resting on her ass, and Karen jumped in surprise. She tried to step back, her face burning cherry red, and she grabbed his wrists and lifted his hands with a nervous laugh. She couldn't step away, a wall of young men surrounding her on all sides, and her eyes widened in panic as she attempted to continue to smile. The dark haired man leaned forward, unperturbed, and whispered, "You come and sing my happy birthday mister press secretary-"

"Awfully nice of you," And Derek was beside her, wrapping his arm through hers, smiled an openly disgusted smile, and placed a hand on the other man's chest. "But she isn't interested. Maybe you'd all consider making an investment in Miss Cartwright's future instead, yes?"

Stunned, every individual, including the young woman on his arm, starred at him, the men open mouthed and Karen's eyes the widest he'd seen, and he forced his smile as he began to push through the throng. "Come along sweetheart." He whispered, and Karen seemed to snap out of a kind of daze. Smiling politely, she kept pace with Derek as he parted the crowd and took a deep, shaky breath as they moved into the hall. They rode the elevator in silence, descending down to the lobby, and it was only when they had pushed through the doors into the bar that Karen noticed she was gripping Derek's hand tightly in her own. Slowly, she untwisted their fingers and stood rather awkwardly as Derek sat himself at the bar.

"Don't you think we should be heading back upstairs?" She asked after a moment. Derek offered a bar stool, but she shook her head.

"Eileen and Tom can manage, I think," Derek signaled the bar tender, who brought over a small glass of amber liquid. The director nodded his thanks and sipped it. "But if you want to get yourself laid, then be my guest-"

"Whoa, Derek," Karen said, her mouth dropping into a frown. To her utter astonishment, he rolled his eyes, eyebrows rocketing upward in annoyance. Karen crossed her arms defensively. "That's very-"

"What? Inappropriate?" Derek asked, his tone undoubtedly condescending, and he turned his head to glare at her. Karen took a step backwards. "Your behavior upstairs tonight, that was inappropriate."

"I don't-"

"Not to mention unsafe." Derek downed his drink and beckoned for another. Derek's eyes were dark and empty. "Bloody hell, you don't know what those men are capable of."

"They're not going to kill me, Derek," Karen interjected, and Derek raised his eyebrows skeptically, rubbing his glass between his fingertips. Karen huffed in annoyance, and moved to lean against the bar, attempting to catch his eyes. "You're treating me like a child."

"You are a child," Karen flinched, starring at him with hurt in her eyes, and for a moment she could see pain reflected back at her in his face. But then came the studiously calm, neutral expression, and his face was brutally blank. "You are young, fresh and naïve in the world of the theater, and every single one of them knew it. They're taking advantage of you."

"I know what I'm doing, Derek. I'm not an idiot," Derek didn't respond to that, simply gulped his second scotch and signaled for a third. "I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions Derek."

"Apparently not," The Brit mused, and Karen rolled her eyes as well. "Seeing how I had to rescue you from those dogs upstairs."

"I can take care of myself," Karen bit back, standing up even straighter. In her heels and his current siting position, she was nearly a head taller then he was. "And if you remember correctly, it was you that told me to act like that. To 'play the sex', as you said." Derek still didn't looked at her, but accepted the next scotch gratefully. Karen pushed herself in next to him, so close that the outside of their legs touched, and looked directly at him. "You told me to show them Marilyn, so I did."

"Yes, darling," Derek finally turned to her, his eyes alive with what she could only assume was contempt, and Karen stepped away again. "But they didn't necessarily need to see all that much of her."

"Derek," She said coldly, "I wasn't going to sleep with them, any of them. You need to calm down."

"It doesn't bother me," Derek moped, frowning into his drink. "You can sleep with any of them, you can sleep with all of them. I don't care."

"Shut up!" Karen finally snapped, starring at him incredulously. She couldn't believe she had ever been made nervous by his presence; all she felt now was anger. "Your drunk, and it's pathetic."

"I am not drunk sweetheart," Derek raised his glass and nodded at the other side of the bar. "Some people can hold their liquor better then others. You certainly seem to have sobered up since you left you crowd of flocking admirers."

"Stop it," Karen said again, her voice softer now, her eyes wider and shining more brightly in the dim light. "You're being awful, just awful."

"I thought I was the Dark Lord himself," Karen bit her lip, and in one swift movement, reached forward and knocked the glass from his hand. The cup shattered, pieces scattering across the wooden countertop, and the scotch sprayed up into the director's face. Very slowly and without emotion, Derek grabbed a napkin and gently wiped the liquor from his skin. His eyes looked impossibly tired.

"Karen-"

"No, you know what? I'm leaving." Karen grabbed her bag and turned away from him. "You're incredible Derek Wills, simply incredible." And she stormed out. He listened intently as her heels clicked across the wood floor of the bar, not faltering as she threw open the side door into the alley, and Derek listened as her footsteps echoed through the street outside. And just as the door swung closed, he sighed.

"Karen!" Jumping up and tipping over the stool, he sprinted across the room and threw open the door. Ignoring the calls and complaints of the bar tender, he took off down the dark alley towards her retreating form. "Karen! Karen Cartwright!"

The young woman didn't react, not turning her head a fraction of an inch, and Derek sprinted to catch up with her. Once he reached her, he grabbed her wrist, turning her without force to face him, but she pulled away. He could see tears in her eyes, but she angrily brushed them away.

"Karen, I-"

"Go away Derek," She interrupted, not looking at him, and wrenched her hand from his grip. He took it again, gently, and she didn't pull away. "Please, leave me alone."

"No Karen, I can't. Not after being such a prat," Karen looked confused, and Derek shook his head. "Ass, I mean."

"I-"

"No, Karen, I'm not mad at you, and I shouldn't treat you like that ever," He raised his hand and touched her cheek, and Karen flinched but didn't look away. The director dropped his hand to her shoulder. "You did exactly what I asked you to do, and you were fantastic. Bloody hell, you were incredible." Karen looked at him, eyebrows raised, but tears still shone in her eyes. "I'm just angry with myself."

"What for?" Derek sighed and ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand.

"For breaking," Karen looked extremely confused. "I couldn't stand to see them touching you like that, making you uncomfortable." Karen didn't say anything, simply starred at him, and Derek sighed. "In a way I was jealous, I couldn't stand the fact that you seemed willing, but mostly the way the were treating you was bloody awful." Derek put both hands on her cheeks, and wiped away a tear that had trickled out of the corner of her eye. "I can't stand their lack of respect. It's unbelievable and unacceptable. And I couldn't let them continue like that, no matter how many thousands of dollars you were adding to our investments."

"Derek-"

"No, this isn't about the show," Derek stood close to her, shivering in the damp coldness of the dark alley, and several more tears slid down her cheeks. "Karen, this has nothing to do with the show, it is absolutely and entirely about you." There was a long silence, and Karen was truly crying now.

"I heard you, and Dev," Derek's eyes widened, and he starred at her blankly. "Outside after the performance last week. I saw you arguing."

"You didn't see me punch him, did you?" Karen nodded slightly, and Derek looked slightly ashamed. "Oh, umm . . . sorry about that. He had it coming though." Karen smiled a half-hearted smiled, which quickly fell again into a frown and Derek felt a thrill of fear run through him.

"I heard," Karen swallowed, and Derek's hands still cupped her face tenderly. She looked away from him. "I heard you tell him you didn't care if we slept together or not. That you wanted to be with me forever." The silence was impenetrable, the tension almost magnetic, and Derek closed his eyes. She saw his chest rise and fall deeply.

"I did, I did say that."

"Did you mean it?" Karen's eyes were wide with panic, and Derek rubbed her cheekbone with his fingers. "Because if you did Derek, that means a lot." Derek shook his head slowly, but Karen nodded. "That's a lot to commit to, you understand that. People don't just say things like that-"

"I mean, they can-"

"But they don't," Karen interjected, and shook her head slowly. Derek stepped closer to her. "They don't say those kind of this. They don't ask that much of people-"

"I'm not asking you to commit to anything Karen," Derek said quickly, nodding slowly. "I just want you to know how I feel darling."

And now he kissed her, full on the lips, his hands bringing her closer to him as they cupped her cheeks. And this time, though the kiss wasn't tender, neither of them could pull away, and Karen wrapped her hands around his neck. And as she came up for oxygen, chest heaving, Derek dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. Capturing her bottom lip, her raised her only slightly off the ground, grinning as she ran a hand through his hair.

And Karen laughed as well, a delightfully warm rumbling in both their chests, and he pulled her body as close to his as he possibly could. She memorized the curves of his shoulders, the muscles of his neck, and smiled even more when he laced his fingers at the small of her back. She felt the cold water splashing at their feet, and she slipped slightly as he lowered her heels to the ground. They both laughed, and Derek caught her and gingerly held her slightly tilted body as their lips met again.

It was a long moment before they broke apart, Derek still planting light, tender kissed on her lips, and Karen only ceasing to recuperate when she was breathless and panting. From there, she didn't pull away; instead, she leaned forward, resting her head in the crook of his collarbone and breathing in his scent deeply. She felt Derek smile, and they swayed minutely as he pressed soft kisses to her scalp.

Unbenounced to both of them, Dennis stood at the end of the alley, squinting through the shadow, three empty beer bottles in his hands and overwhelmingly crafty and lopsided smile spreading across his face.

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**Oh, ho, ho! Dennis! What will come of this? We shall see I suppose, but for now, this is a super big update! Extra long, remember? Just as I promised. Umm, so please leave a review if you enjoyed, and thank you all so, so, so much for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**And chapter ten now right? I'm losing track! Again, thanks to everyone who has followed this story, and especially to those who have reviewed, all you readers are wonderful! Oh, and I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but if anyone was wondering, Karen's dress is exactly like the one Katharine McPhee wore on the cover of Emmy Magazine. So there you go!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Smash or any of its character's**

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The moment Karen walked into rehearsal, she could tell something was in the air. The production team seemed mostly normal, Julia and Tom waving at her entrance, Linda passing her several sheets of notes and sending her a smile, and Derek raising his eyebrows and scowling.

"And where have we been, Miss Cartwright?" Inwardly, Karen rolled her eyes. Work was professional, not personally, she had nearly forgotten how many times he'd assured her of this last night, that any way her treated her within rehearsal was to stay permanently within that theater, and nothing more.

"_I can't let anyone think I'm treating you differently. No matter what reasons they concoct surrounding it," Karen smiled as Derek leaned against the doorway of her hotel room, and he smirked._

"_Yes, I know," Karen straightened slightly, and he stood up as well, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We have to be professional."_

"_Mmhmm," Derek nodded and Karen rested her hand awkwardly on the handle of the door. She bit her lip, and Derek shifted onto the balls of his feet. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then."_

"_Alright, goodnight," Leaning forward, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek, and he smile. _

"_Goodnight."_

"Stuck in the subway," Derek raised his eyebrows, and Karen smirked back at him as he shook his head. Though still slightly uncomfortable with his presence, Karen had decided that upon last night's confession, Derek Wills was not as terrible man that he portrayed himself as. And perhaps, she though with a slight smile, a good man all in all. For now, they were 'together' as one might say, and though it wasn't publicly known, Karen felt closer to him then she ever had before.

"Blasted public transport . . ." She heard him mumble, and laughed as she walked down to join the rest of the ensemble. And here was where the confusion hit her, as she was met with nervous looks and slight agitation. As far as she could tell, it only seemed to be coming from Jessica, Bobby, Dennis and Sue, who whispered softly among each other as she watched, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Hey guys . . ." She said quietly, uncertain as she joined the foursome, and four faces turned to her sharply.

"Oh, hi." Jessica piped up, flashing her a toothy smile, and the other three looked down at their feet. Bobby fiddled distractedly with his phone, Sue picked at her fingernails, and Dennis grimaced and pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his bag pushing them on, rubbing his forehead and groaning.

"Is something wrong?" Karen prodded slowly, still uncertain, and Bobby raised his eyes to look at her. Sighing and putting his phone in his pocket, he grabbed her hand with both of his and starred straight at her.

"Karen-"

"Alright, everyone!" There was a bellow from across the theater, abruptly cutting off the dancers words, and the four looked at each other nervously before taking their seats. Looking at them for a moment with more and more confusion, Karen turned away and moved to sit in the front, her appointed area when reviewing notes. "We're going to run blocking for the Zanuck scene, and then I want to run straight through notes for 'Let's Be Bad'," Several nods, and Derek gestured at her. "Miss Cartwright, if you will."

Quickly, she ascended the stairs onto the stage, riffling through the bundle of notes as she went, and Derek wrapped his arm around her bicep as she approached. Turning, he ushered her across the stage, calling back for several other members of the company, and then leaning in as they exited to the wings.

"Morning," He whispered, his breath tickling her ear, and she bit back a laugh.

"Good morning Mr. Wills," Scowling a slightly playful scowl, Derek released her as Karen entered her dressing room. In the doorway she stopped at and turned to him. "Work is work, Derek." She mimicked, and Derek smirked.

"Indeed," he looked around quickly, then leaned his hand against the doorframe. "I'd offer dinner tonight," He began, "But Eileen has to meet with the investors from last night, and naturally I'm going to need to be on hand close by."

"Dinning with the dogs?" Karen laughed, and Derek grimaced.

"Well, hopefully I won't have to," Karen smiled and raised her eyebrows. "But that is, incidentally, why you are not invited." She swatted his arm humorously, and Derek beamed.

"You're too jealous for your own good," Derek raised his eyebrows, and Karen giggled. "Well how about tomorrow, then? Dinner?"

"Yes, alright," Derek nodded and smiling slightly, strolled off backstage as Karen disappeared into the dressing room. Rehearsal went by without a hitch; the cast was compliant to Derek's demands, and it was only once they reached lunch did Karen again feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. And yet thankfully, this time the rest of the ensemble did not beat around the bush. Instead, storming her dressing room mere moments after she had finished changing, they grabbed her by the hand and practically yanked her from the theater.

Guiding her down the street and to a favorite dive of theirs, conversation was light and meaningless until they were able to sit her at a bar stool, pulling several chairs to form a semi-circle and each one looking at her intently. Karen ordered a drink from the man behind the bar, and waited as they all continued to look around, their gaze switching from her to each other with increasing regularity. She crossed her legs and fidgeted uncertainly, sipping her drink and folding the ends of her sleeves over her hands, as she was want to do. Nursing the soft fabric between her fingers, she watched as Jessica pushed her shoulders back and opened her mouth to speak.

"So," She stated, starring fixedly at Karen, and the younger woman watched as her mouth opened and closed, not words escaping.

"So, Karen," Bobby leaned forward, and Jessica lapsed back into her seat, looking almost thankful, and she placed a hand on Karen's knee. Karen looked at them, feeling concern radiate through her, and sipped her drink again. However, Bobby too stopped mid-sentence, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and biting his lips as Sue leaned up next to him.

"Karen," She attempted to continue, and now truly concerned, Karen almost flinched as the older woman laid a hand on her shoulder. But still, not words came, and finally all three of them turned to stare at Dennis, sunglasses still pulled over his eyes, slowly gulping a glass of water.

"Don't look at me," He raised one hand in the air slightly groggily and set it back down. "This was your idea."

"Yes," Jessica said, almost patronizingly, "But you were the messenger. You were the one who said-"

"Yeah," Dennis raised an eyebrow. "But I didn't want to talk to her about it. That was all you."

"Dennis," Bobby grabbed his drink from him and set it on the table. "Honey, just do it. It was your information, and none of the rest of us know how to breach the subject.

"What's going on?" Karen asked, eyes darting between the four faces with utter confusion on her face, and Dennis groaned slightly as he reached out to grab her hand. Karen only watched him, confused.

"That doesn't mean I know either," He mumbled as he pulled of his sunglasses, and he starred at Karen with slightly red-rimmed, hung-over eyes. Karen gazed write back.

"Karen," He began again, and she had the sudden urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't as young as they were making her out to be, and this meeting felt far too much like a confrontation between parent and child. "You and the Dark Lord . . ." Unbenounced to them, the young star felt her breath catch, and her eyes widened only slightly. They couldn't know; there was no possible way. What sign had either of them ever given, especially during a rehearsal of all things? Dennis was looking back and forth between the other group members, and each one nodded their head encouragingly. "We've noticed some changes in-"

"Oh enough already," Jessica finally pushed past him, and Dennis happily subsided into his bar stool. "Look Karen," Jessica starred directly at her. "Dennis says that yesterday, he saw you out with the- with Derek, and you two were . . ." She looked off thoughtfully, carefully choosing the write words.

"Going at it," Bobby offered.

"Making out," Dennis swigged the rest of his drink.

"_Kissing_," Jessica interjected slowly, before any further suggestions could be made, and then released her hold on Karen's knee. Sitting back, the rest of the company all looked at her inquisitively, waiting for her to speak. Karen looked around at them, and –ever the actress- swallowed and put on her best aghast face.

"I'm sorry," Karen folded her arms across her chest. "I don't understand-"

"Look, Iowa, sweetie," Bobby attempted to interject some humor into the situation. "We've noticed that Derek's been acting differently, especially to you. He's nicer, he's gentler, he's happier-"

"And he looks at you more," Sue said, and they all nodded slowly. Again, she felt their gaze boring into her, and Karen shook her head.

"I still don't understand-" Jessica sighed, and the others groaned as Karen looked around, utterly confused.

"We just want to make sure you're . . . being safe," Jessica herself looked confused by her own words.

"Safe?" Dennis rolled his eyes as Karen spoke.

"Making the right decisions," Karen raised her eyebrows and sipped her drink again. "For your own well being-"

"You guys," Karen began, sitting up a little straighter. "I don't feel anything for Derek, you know that-"

"The Dark Lord knows how to get what he wants," Bobby interrupted with a glint in his eye. "And considering you're his new star, it seems more then expected that he would . . ."

"Try something on you," Sue finished, and Karen nearly rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sleeping with Derek, alright? We aren't . . . anything, at all-"

"Told you-" Bobby whispered over his glass, and Dennis scowled.

"I don't know what you're all on about, but I'm not with him and I'm not going to be," She lied through her teeth, though her voice was not watery or broken. She was an actor; she could play her part. "He's the Dark Lord, remember? Sauron himself? He's made attempts before I've handled it, ok? He doesn't bother me." Silence fell over the group, the ensemble members wearing rather appreciative looks, and Bobby grinned.

"Well, turn's out Iowa isn't too green after all," He said again after a moment of silence, and several smiles broke out. Karen, however, didn't join in.

"Just as I thought," Jessica said rather pompously, and beamed at Karen. Gesturing at Dennis, she said, "I knew he couldn't be telling the truth."

"I guess it was dark," Dennis mumbled, rather miffed. "And I was hammered-"

"Exactly," Sue raised her glass and downed it as a waiter approached. "We should have had more faith in you Iowa."

"You've got more of a backbone then we would have though," The chorus laughed, and Karen did her best not to grimace as they clinked glasses and drank. She knew they were trying to be nice, and she did her best to accept their words as compliments, but it didn't stop the bubble of anger that grew and began gnawing at the inside of her stomach.

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Derek stood up slowly, twisting his stiff neck and slipping on his coat. The performance had gone well, yet again, and the ensemble was already beginning to disperse after a brief discussion about their moving to Los Angeles. After several performances in New York, they were read to take the production on the road to bigger and more public audiences. The cast had seemed thrilled, the theater filling with bubbly chatter and smiles as soon as they were dismissed, and he noticed that only Karen wore a tight set frown, her forehead furrowed and eyes locked on something in the distance as he had spoken.

Only confused by her perplexing emotions, he had marked it down to exhaustion and an overly long rehearsal, and threw on his jacket with only a slight frown on his face. He hoped with everything that had that he would not have to face the potential investors with Eileen, as he was unsure of how much restraint her would be capable of showing, and instead looked forward to a nice quiet night, alone with his notes and his thoughts-

A soft, thin hand, fingers wrapping roughly around his and more then practically dragging him towards the door. Grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder just in time, he rounded to see Karen, back turned to him and face set, throwing open the door with a rather determined look on her face. Not looking back at him, she proceeded to exit the theater with him still in toe, and Derek could only follow her with slight bewilderment.

"Umm, good evening?" He inquired, but Karen merely scowled as they turned a corner away from the theater. There, she situated her hand more firmly in his and continued to pull him behind her as she marched down the streets. "Karen . . . don't you think people will talk if we-"

"I don't care," She spat, biting her lip as she turned another corner. "Let them think whatever they like, I honestly couldn't care less."

"Darling," He said after a very long silence, and Karen finally looked at him, a momentary glance before turning away. Her gaze was so much a glare that Derek almost felt himself shrink, unaware that Karen was capable of such strong emotion. "I have to talk to Eileen-"

"I hate them, sometimes," She ignored his words. "I hate them all, sometimes." Derek watched her, confused, as she took a deep, shaky breath, her face still set and angry. "And I need a drink, badly."

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"And it's just, like, they can't even stand the though that we might be together," Derek watched, rapt, as Karen downed another drink. Face set into a dark frown, she motioned for another one, and Derek felt a faint inkling to stop her, despite the slight humor he felt at the situation. The bar they had frequented was dark and shabby, adorned with dark-eyed, large muscled men, and the director was happy that Karen had resolve to bring him with her on this journey. It was a fascinating state of affairs, an angry, drinking Karen Cartwright, and though he would like to say it was a far fetch from the sweet, shy, innocently green Iowan, he knew that Karen was entitled to be angry without having to be placed entirely outside of herself. It was simply that no one ever saw this mellow, rather more sharp tongued side of her, and Derek was unsure whether to be honored or concerned that she had graced him with its presence.

"They think I'm a child; that I have no concept of how to take care of myself," Karen glowered across the room. "I'm not an idiot!"

"So being with me would make you an idiot?" Derek couldn't help but ask it, slightly confused by her anger at the other cast members, and Karen scowled as he chuckled.

"No," She said simply, and drank again. Derek still nursed his first, entirely full drink, something telling him that he would need to be sober later for the sake of both of them. Karen closed her eyes for a long time, then opened them. "It's just that they wont even give you a chance, or me. They don't trust that I can make my own decisions, and it sucks." Another drink, and Derek put a hand delicately on hers.

"They care about you," He said softly. "And they are hateful and weary of me. It's only natural." Karen looked at him for a long moment, then nodded and finished another drink. Again, she motioned for more.

"I know," Karen swallowed slightly. "But sometimes I can't stand how little they think of me. It's like I haven't earned any of their respect."

"You've earned plenty of respect, from everyone here," Derek smiled, and Karen grinned slightly too. "They may not believe you can handle yourself, but they all really care about you."

Karen laughed a bit, her smile slightly lopsided, but her eyes were still bright and alert. "I think you're just seeing everything the way you want to see it. I'm not as entirely doted on as you seem to think."

"I highly doubt that, Miss Cartwright," Karen giggled again, and Derek took her hand. "It seems wholly unlikely."

"You're funny, Mister Wills," She took another drink, and Derek could hear a slur enter her words. "You're a funny, funny, funny, funny man."

"I've been called many things," Karen didn't look at him, but Derek raised an eyebrow. "Funny, however, is not one of them darling."

"Very funny," She said rather distantly, and sipped the amber liquid. She leaned against the bar, still gripping Derek's hand, and blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Dennis said he saw us yesterday," She gestured between the two of them. "You know."

"What did you tell them?" Derek's eyes glinted in the dim light.

"They convinced themselves that he was drunk, which he was, and he didn't know what he was talking about," Karen frowned. "They were quick to find an answer that suited them best."

"Good for us," Derek stated and finally sipped his own drink. Karen finished hers.

"Mmhmm," Undoubtedly related to the alcohol, Karen was beginning to smile at him as she laid her head on the bar. "Thanks for listening to me whine," she grumbled, and Derek smiled.

"My pleasure, sweetheart," He kissed the top of her head, and she sat up a little straighter and motioned for another drink, but Derek put a hand on hers. "I don't think you need any more, love,"

Karen stuck out her tongue and laughed. "You can't tell me what to do," She grabbed the next glass. "Some people," She slurred, and Derek watched her with raised eyebrows and a soft smile. "Can hold their liquor better then others, Mr. Wills."

"So you've said," Derek watched as she finished the drink, and sighed. Laughing, she stood up, tipped slightly, and sat back down.

"I like this," She licked her lips and brandished the scotch, and Derek had a hard time focusing on her words for a moment. "I see why you drink it." She tipped it back and smiled at him. "I'll have another."

"I think," Derek took both her hands in his, and she frowned playfully. "You've had more then enough. Everything in moderation darling."

"In that case," she shifted away from him. "I'll have a beer," This she directed at the bartender, smiling a rather cunning smile before stumbling to her feet. Derek frowned at the man, shaking his head repeatedly, but the bartender ignored him and passed Karen a dark brown bottle. Slurring her thanks, she stumbled towards the door, and Derek jogged to catch up with her.

"Come on! Let's go!" She said excitedly, and took a swig of beer before sprinting out the door. Uncertain of what to do, and disliking the prospect of an incoherent Karen walking the dark streets of New York, he took off through the door and after her. She had barely made it out onto the sidewalk, her feet twisting over each other as she stumbled, and she fell to the ground with a burst of laughter. Hopping again to her feet, she smiled at him and sipped the beer. "Where are we going?"

"Darling, I haven't the faintest idea," Derek sighed and rubbed his forehead, watching as she turned away and raised her eyebrows. "You seemed to have some notion."

"Well," She stated matter-of-factly, speaking more to herself then to him. "If you don't know where we're going, and I don't know where we're going, then we're in a bit of a mess, aren't we?"

"Yes, Karen," Derek tried not to smile as she skipped away, balancing with arms stretch out on the curb of the sidewalk. "I have a brilliant idea; why don't we get you home-"

Karen stuck out her tongue, blowing a loud raspberry and shaking her head, walking slowly with one foot in front of the other. "For a brilliant director," Derek sighed again, but he was smiling as he watched her. "That is not a very 'brilliant' idea." She glanced at him over her shoulder and beamed, dark chestnut curls falling into her face and she stumbled back onto the sidewalk.

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Karen bit her lip, squinting thoughtfully, and began to walk away from him down the sidewalk. Derek followed at a leisurely pace, hands in his pockets, and watching as Karen sipped her beer again. The sun was long set, the tall streetlights casting the buildings into deep shadow, and the young woman smiled up at the sky.

"It's going to rain," She stated, smiling and stretching out her arms. As Derek approached, she closed her eyes and began to spin slowly. Somehow, they had ended up several blocks down from the bar, and Karen's bottle was already beginning to run dry. Derek sighed yet again, seeing there was not a cloud in the sky.

"No, it won't, love," Derek put and hand on her shoulder, and she glanced at him and smiled with slight surprise. "Don't worry." Reaching out gently, he made a grab for the beer, but Karen pulled it away with a sly smile.

"Not so fast mister," She said slowly, taking another sip and walking away, eyes still aimed towards the heavens. Derek continued to trail in her wake. "I hope it does rain; I like rain."

"No one likes rain, Karen," Ever the downer, Derek was beginning to worry about Karen's sanity as she starred at him with a kind of crooked smile. It was a wonder to him how her anger and negative emotion seemed to float away, taking any adverse feelings of her associates with her. Right now, though worry was beginning to consume him, he felt happier then he had in a long time.

"Well, I like rain," Karen laughed, throwing back her head and beginning to skip along the sidewalk, dodging through groups of people. Derek was forced to increase his pace to keep sight of her, scooping up her heels as she kicked them off in her haste. "I guess that makes me . . . antique, or um . . . unique, or . . ." Looking rather confused, Karen came to a tipsy halt, barely registering the red light before her and instead turning to him inquisitively. Derek couldn't stop himself from beaming, her shoes tucked under his arm.

"You're lucky you're a happy drunk," Karen laughed again and moved the bottle from hand-to-hand, biting her lip. Derek watched her fascinated. "And a cute one, as well."

"Really?" Karen asked, stepping toward him with a tiny smile, and lifted the beer for another drink. "How cute am I?" Lifting the bottle to her lips, her eyes widened as she tipped it, and she brought it down with a little gasp, starring at the dark glass. Looking up at him, she held it out and tipped it upside-down, with no affect.

"Very cute," Derek concluded in a quiet voice, but the younger woman wasn't listening.

"It's empty," She stated, mouth dropping open, obviously aghast, and Derek chuckled as she blinked at him slowly.

"So it is," He laughed as Karen looked at the empty bottle, almost comically horrified. "What an excellent deduction you've made."

"You're making fun of me," She stated with a smiled, tossing the glass sideways towards a nearby dustbin and causing Derek to dive to stop it from shattering across the pavement. Barely noticing as the director pushed himself up from his knee, Karen wandered over to the small, shabby convenience store near the corner. "Oh, this looks nice . . ."

"Yes, darling," Derek raised his hand, motioning for a cab and letting out a long breath as a bright yellow car pulled to the curb. "Come on now, you don't need any more drinks tonight." Lacing his arm through hers, he curled their fingers together for extra leverage and pulled the pair of them gently to the waiting car.

"But where are we going?" She asked, looking around at the light of the stores, full and glaring in their faces, and Derek helped her into the car with their interlaced hands.

"We are taking you home," He said, turning to face her once they were seated, but she was across the car and starring out the window, their locked fingers stretching their arms across the backseat of the cab. "And then I am returning to my flat. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Do we?" She asked, not really paying attention to her question as she leaned a head against the windowpane. Derek watched as she pulled herself away from it, eyes drooping, and instead rested her head on the back of the seat. There it sat for a long moment, a small, happy smile on her face, before it tipped sideways and nestled into his shoulder.

Dark brown curls tickling his neck and cascading down his coat, his senses instantly overwhelmed by the scent of alcohol, but underlying that, smell of a deep wood –possibly cedar-, the cheap, musty scent of her current hotel and a strong, gentle vanilla fragrance that wafted about her. Slightly shocked, Derek looked down at her to realize she was smiling up at him, blinking slowly, before closing her eyes all together and beginning to doze. The ride to her apartment was slow in the traffic of the hour, lights flashing slowly across their faces, but Derek found her could not take his eyes off of her the entire time.

It was only when they reached her hotel and they come to stop did he look up, gentle shaking her shoulder and smiling as she mumbled and fumbled into consciousness. Squeezing her hand as she continued to sway and mutter incoherently, he reached across her to grip the door handle of the taxi and push it open. Guided by his hand and blinking as she rubbed her eyes, Karen stumbled onto the sidewalk and turned back to the director. They kissed for a long moment, eyes closed, her fingers tingling against the skin of his neck, before Karen pulled away to look at him.

She seemed to have sobered up, though not by much, her smile still large and rather goofy as her soft words slurred against her tongue. What she said, he couldn't understand or begin to comprehend, but he simply shook his head and smiled, stepping back slowly towards the idle taxi.

"Where are you going?" She repeated, and Derek looked at her for a moment, their beings still linked by their intertwined hands. The Brit shrugged slightly.

"Home," Derek said. "I need rest, and so do you. I'm going back to my flat." For a moment she starred at him, blinking very slowly, then a broad smile spread across her face and she stepped closer to him. He felt a thrill of fear and excitement run through him at her next whisper, but she didn't seem to notice, her eyes glowing in the light of the streetlamps.

"Take me with you."

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**Uh-oh! Will he? Won't he? Should he? All questions will be answered soon, but so far, who knows? Two really, really long updates in a row . . . Good or bad? Thank you all so, so, so very much for reading, reviews are always loved and appreciated, and I will return shortly.**


	11. Chapter 11

**As usual, and gigantic, humungous, astronomical thanks to everyone who has read, or favorited this story, and especially those who have reviewed. My account had over ten thousand hits in the month of June, which is . . . Wow . . . Beyond incredible. Actually amazing. You are all beyond fantastic, really, thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**Disclaimer: Smash is still not mine**

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Derek pushed open the door to his apartment, the handle clicking softly as he stepped inside, and slipped his coat from his shoulders. Turning, he hung it on the rack to his left, brushing himself off and dropping his bag beside him in the entryway, he turned back to Karen, who was standing in the doorway. Cheeks flushed from the heat, eyes wide and bright with the lights of his apartment, she beamed at him from across the foyer, and he smiled back.

"Here, let me take that," Gesturing for her coat, he caught her gently by the arm as she stumbled while she turned, giggling as he helped her right herself. Slipping out of her coat, she kicked off her shoes –to his slight surprise- and walked a rather zigzagged line across the open space to his living room. "Make yourself at home."

"I like your house," She mused under her breath, but loud enough in the silent space that he could here her clearly. "It's . . . nice," Extending her arms, she tiptoed unsuccessfully along the grain of the hard wood floor, and leaned against a chair beside the coffee table. Leaving her to her own devices for a moment, he moved into the kitchen and extracted two glasses, setting them on the counter with a clink, and trying to ignore the nagging doubt eating at the back of his mind.

What was he doing? He shook his head at that and pulled out a bottle of liquor, filling one glass and putting it away. Bloody hell, he knew exactly what he was doing; Karen Cartwright was in his apartment, slightly tipsy but ready and willing, and he felt a flutter of nervous energy in the pit of his stomach. He had said before that he would sleep with her if the opportunity was to present itself, and here it was, him doing nothing more then what she had asked for – or, in reality, heavily implied.

Swigging his own drink and smirking defiantly, he filled the other glass with water and carried them into the living room. Across the open space, purse dropped unceremoniously beside her, Karen leaned her head against the glass of his huge windows, forehead pressed against the glass and head tilted downward. Her eyes blinked slowly, starring down the side of the building, and Derek moved to stand beside her. She didn't raise her head, but she reached out a hand and grabbed for his arm. He hand flailed for a moment, fingers searching sporadically, and finally Derek moved forward and into her grasp.

"You should try this," She slurred, a silly grin plastered on her face, and he leaned in very slowly to press his head to the glass. Eyes tilted downward, he could see down the entire length of the side of his building, down to the cars trickling through the street and the lights glinting in the storefronts, and he smirked as Karen squeezed his wrist. "Cool, right?"

"Very 'cool'," Derek mimicked, laughing, and Karen stuck out her tongue before peeling her face from the surface. Wiping the tiny mark left by her hand feverishly with her sleeve, she looked at him and the glasses with raised eyebrows and an eager glint in her eye.

"What's that?" Derek chuckled and handed her the clear liquid.

"Water, darling," Karen frowned and took the cup he proffered, looking at his with what could only be described as jealousy. "You've had more then enough for a long, long time."

"Hmm," Karen sipped her water thoughtfully and watched as he drank his own. Her eyes scoured him, flicking back and forth and looking him up and down with a kind of sweet subtlety only she could posses, and she smiled at him, cheeks still red and flushed. He shifted his drink from hand to hand, slightly awkwardly, and Karen turned away from him to sit on the couch. She nearly missed, the glass almost slipping from her hand, and giggled as she picked up a magazine from his coffee table. "You read tabloids?"

He raised his eyebrow, and she laughed even harder, rifling with one hand through the messy pile of periodicals. He watched her with a sideways smirk, and came to stand beside her.

"Of course I do, when they discuss _Bombshell_," Karen laughed and finished her water.

"So you only read about yourself . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she picked up a magazine and began to flip through the pages, scanning the contents. Derek smiled.

"Well, that may be true," She looked at him as he sat beside her on the couch, and she moved closer to him, so that their sides were pressed against each other, legs touching, her hair cascading onto his shoulder. Again, her scent overwhelmed him, and he smiled. Her hands were clumsy with alcohol as she turned the pages. "Don't you read them too?"

"Well," She started rather frankly, and he had the uncontrollable desire to wrap his hand around her waist. And so he did, pulling her even closer, arm brushing the small of her back and fingers resting on her hipbone. She didn't react; perhaps she didn't even notice. "I obviously ready tabloids, but I'm me and you're you, so . . ."

Again, her voice faded away, and Derek chuckled. Karen looked at him, eyebrows raised, and folded her arms across her chest, the action so unbelievably cute that he found himself beaming back. "That is possibly one of the worst explanations I've ever heard." Karen laughed and but her hands around his neck.

"It is not, it makes perfect sense," She leaned in so their noses touch. "You are obviously not the type to read magazines, but I am,"

"Mmhmm," Derek hummed, not even listening to her words, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"And so it makes sense that you would-" Her words trailed away, she herself not even listening as her sentence slurred into nothing, and she leaned forward and kissed him, a goofy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Derek recuperated instantaneously, wrapping his other hand around her and pulling her sitting form still closer-

His phone rang, a loud, shrill chime that cut through the moment like a knife, and Karen pulled away before he could tell her that it didn't matter. She slid and inch along the couch and away from him, and Derek scowled and cursed under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room to his cell phone, left unobtrusively on the counter from this morning. Scooping it into his hand, he glowered and punched the button as he turned back to the living room.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" In no mood for formalities, Derek prepared himself to hang up, not caring whom it was who had offered such an interruption.

"Derek, it's Eileen," Perhaps it was her name, or maybe it was the producer's equally angry tone, but Derek stopped himself from lowering the phone, frowning into the receiver and rubbing his forehead.

"Eileen," He said stiffly in greeting, and switched the phone to his other ear. As he watched, Karen stood up and began to wander the room, entirely unperturbed and uncaring of the intrusion into their moment, and Derek turned back to the kitchen. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, Derek," Eileen's voice was thick with anger, and Derek's brow furrowed at her words. "If you don't remember, we had an arrangement-"

Shit, oh bloody hell he was such an idiot. The dinner and the investors having entirely escaped his mind, he uttered a few choice words under his breath as Eileen continued to rant.

"Eileen, I forgot-"

"Yes, I know you forgot," She interjected, not letting him speak, and Derek prepared himself for battle against a long rant as Karen looked at him quizzically, smiling a wonderfully lopsided smile. He leaned against the counter and inhaled a long breath. "And the investors know that as well, thank God some of them still decided to put forward their money. You have embarrassed this entire production team and everyone in the show-"

"Yes, Eileen, and I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean-" He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Eileen interrupted him again. Karen turned away from him and picked a small object up from the kitchen table, turning it over in her hands.

"Sorry isn't good enough Derek, where have you been? I've been calling and calling-"

"I've been busy, Eileen, ok?" Derek glowered and sighed. "I didn't-"

"Well where have you been? Please explain to me what is more important then this production, which we have all put our hearts into and I have invested millions in-" Eileen rambled on, and Karen, turning and tipping slightly, raise the small knick-knack at him.

"What's this?" She called loudly over the silent apartment, apparently unaware of his phone call, and Derek's eyes widened as Eileen's words cut off.

"Derek," Eileen voice was almost motherly, as of a parent reprimanding a child, and Derek squeezed his eyes shut, "You don't have a woman with you, do you? Please tell me that is not what caused you to miss this dinner." Letting out a long breath and thanking whatever power had stopped Eileen from recognizing Karen's voice, he pulled the phone away from his face and covered the receiver with his hand, shaking his head at Karen and raising a finger to lips. Shrugging, Karen smiled as she turned away from him and began skimming through the piles of notes strewn across his table.

Brining the phone back to his ear, he rubbed the thumb of his free hand along his creased forehead and interrupted Eileen's flow of complaints with as much defiance as he could muster. "No Eileen, I am not with a woman, and look," Racking his brains, his eyes alighted on a sheet of notes and picked them up, gesturing as though she could see them. "I've been working on the show, on the new blocking for 'History' once we get to L.A., alright? I'm sorry if I got caught up-"

"Well, is it finished?" Eileen was unconvinced, as she rightly should be, and Derek nodded as he lied through his teeth.

"They'll be finished by tomorrow."

"Fabulous," Eileen responded in a sickeningly sweet voice. "We'll run through them at rehearsal in the morning." Derek's heart fell, and he felt a headache coming on, but he pushed it away. Grimacing into the phone, he nodded once.

"Sounds great, see you tomorrow," Before she could answer, he hung up, throwing his phone down and rubbing his hands into his eyes with a groan. When he opened them again, Karen was standing in front of him, looking slightly concerned, and he took her hand with a slight smile. She beamed back, squeezing his fingers, and walked with a rather tipsy gate back to the living room.

It would take him an hour, maybe two, to finish the new blocking, as he hadn't lied to Eileen that he had worked on it earlier today, but the thought of Karen simply sitting in his apartment made a horrible feeling of guilt rise within him. He knew he had to finish it; he couldn't leave anything up to chance where he and Karen's privacy was concerned. Eileen would more then certainly draw conclusions if he were to show up tomorrow with nothing accomplished and not excuse for the previous night, and if she was to figure out whom she thought had been in his apartment over the phone-

He shook his head at the thought, scowling, and walked across to rest his hands on Karen's shoulders. She jumped at his touch, and giggled when he placed a kiss on her shoulder.

"I have some work to do," He scowled, but Karen nodded, smiling and not even looking at him as she continued to explore the items in his house. She seemed almost like a curious child, and Derek fought back a smile as she finally turned to him and saw his angry expression. She frowned slightly as well, eyes narrowing. "Do you mind just . . . waiting here,"

She shook her head, eyes unconcerned, and half skipped, half walked out of his grasp and over to the window again. His face still distraught and anger bubbling inside him at Eileen impeccable timing, he crossed the room and sat himself down to his work with a sigh.

He lasted a good twenty minutes before annoyance and frustration got the better of him, and he jumped to his feet and rounded on Karen, striding over to her and extending a hand. She took it without hesitation, but looked confused as he pulled her to her feet, looping his arm around her waist and holding her other hand out in a standard ballroom dance position. She raised an eyebrow as he began to move, slowly.

"I need to work out a different blocking pattern for 'History is Made at Night'," He responded to her unasked question. She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I think it's perfectly fine the way it is," Karen interjected with a slight smirk, and Derek's eyes smiled, not meet her gaze as he starred over her shoulder.

"The stage in L.A. is smaller," Derek explained, and they spun across the open space on the hardwood floor. "We're going to need to condense the movements on everyone's part." Karen nodded in understanding, following his lead as he spun her once, and brought her back in. Her movements ever graceful, if slightly muddled in her less then sobered state, she stepped closer to him when she came in from the spin.

"Doesn't sound to difficult," She slurred only slightly, smiling as they swayed sideways, and began to hum the tune under her breath. In the utter silence of his vast loft, it was perfect, her voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear, and he smiled as she dipped and righted herself again.

They moved effortlessly across the floor, guided by Derek's movements but kept graceful and controlled by Karen's, and Derek's extensions were swift and smooth as he pictured the stage. With several different couples packed together, he would need each move to be smaller, less grand, and though it pained him, he would need less showmanship. He spun Karen halfway, her form pulled back into his so he could wrap his arms around her stomach, and she pushed her head against his shoulder, placing a kiss on his jaw.

"Karen, I need to work," He smiled, and Karen twisted out of his grasp, coming back again so they were even closer then before. She swayed her hips slightly, not matching the beat of the song she continued to hum.

"I don't know what you're talking about," She said with only a hint of laughter, trying not to giggle as she pushed her head next to his, breath hot against his ear. Derek chuckled.

"You know full well what I'm talk about," Derek responded only half heartedly, swaying along with her and shivering as she ghosted a kiss along his neck. He pulled away from her, a devilish glint in his eye, one hand still gripped in hers, and she looked at him innocently, trying to hide a smirk. Eyes still slightly glazed, she giggled as he looked at her and she tipped slightly as her footing stumbled. "You're being incredibly . . ." She caught her balance in his arms, laughing now, beaming as he smiled down at her, and he couldn't move his gaze from hers. Here eyes sparkled, and he closed the distance between them. "Distracting-"

The kiss was hot and passionate, different from any they had shared before, and almost mess as Karen pulled herself closer to him. Stumbling into his arm, she giggled as he captured her lower lip, breath hot against his face as he grabbed her hips, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he supported her weight. Hands tangled in his hair, she pressed her lips against his fervently, letting out a faint whimper as he moved across the living room.

Up the stairs, as quickly as he could bring himself to move, through the doors and collapsing onto the bed, breath heavy. And she was pulling at the buttons of his shirt, straddling his sitting form, dancing fingertips along his chest as he shed his button down and she pulled off her sweater. And he was kicking off his jeans, sliding backwards onto the sheets, falling onto his back as her kisses ghosted along his jaw, down his neck, onto his shoulder and along his collar bone and he knew in that moment that he wanted her, more badly then he'd ever wanted any woman, or anything, in his entire life. He needed Karen Cartwright, desperately, with more earnest then anything he could remember, and lying here in his boxer shorts if he conscience would just shut up for a minute he could have her-

"Derek," she muttered into his lips, his name almost a moan, and he felt that irritating, tormenting worry in the back of his mind explode, stabbing him in the chest like a knife and turning slowly. Because that voice, beautiful and undoubtedly hers, mimicked that of so many others, and he felt the shock of a hundred women, drunk and flirting and pawing at him, in the same position as Karen was now. And now he could smell the alcohol on her breath, thick and smothering, and he could feel it in her movements, soft and gentle as she was but languid and sporadic, clumsy and earnest and drunken.

He felt sick with himself, as though a great weight had been slammed against his stomach and was now resting on his chest. To take advantage of Karen . . . the very implications of a such a vulgar idea stifled him, suffocating him, and he couldn't catch his breath as the reality of the moment crashed around him. He was a disgrace; an indecent, inconsiderate, crude, obscene, stigma of an individual, and the sickness of his action overwhelmed him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, Karen still straddling his lap as she toyed with the ends of his hair.

"Karen-" He mumbled, but she ignore him, pressing kisses to his lips and tickling her fingers along his neck. He shook his head, biting his lip and pulling away from her, but she persisted. "Karen," He removed his hands from her waist and rested them on her shoulders, almost pushing distance between them, and they starred at one another, chests heaving. Wonderfully flushed and pick in the heat of the room, her shirtless figure a sigh for sore eyes even in the dim light cast through the windows, he cupped her face in hand and searched her eyes. She looked back at him, partially annoyed, partially uncomprehending, but somewhere in her he could see understanding.

"Karen, I- . . . I can't do it," She didn't say anything, simply looked at him, her face neutral and expressionless. He continued between heavy breaths. "I just . . . I just want it to be real, that's all. If we we're ever to sleep together," She sifted slightly on the covers, her jeaned legs still pressed against his, and her eyes were wide as he continued to speak. "I would need it to be real. I couldn't live with myself if I ever took that from you in any way."

There was a long silence, and Derek searched her face, looking and waiting for an answer, for a response, for anything. But she offered nothing, her eyes inscrutable and her mouth parted slightly as she looked over every feature of his face. Even in the almost total darkness, she seemed to soak of every bit of brightness that there was, and she glowed with it. Derek gently rubbed his thumbs across her cheekbones, pushing bits of hair behind her ear.

After a long moment, Karen leaned forward, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his cheek. In one fluid motion, she slid sideways off his form, one hand resting on his shoulder and pulling him with her, and gently fell onto the bed. Her figure curled on its side and his resting on its back, she snuggled into him, head fitting wonderfully in the crook of his shoulder, fingers unintentionally ticking his bare chest. And after a moment of faint surprise, Derek relaxed into her form, reaching over to wrap his arms around her shoulder and pull her to him. And maybe she was smiling, he couldn't really tell, but he drifted off to sleep to the rhythm of her breath, warm and soft against his neck.

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Karen awoke with a groan, barely opening her eyes as a terrible pounding overtook her. Reaching up a sluggish hand, she held her forehead and swore under her breath, squinting through the blinding morning sun. It definitely didn't stream that way through her hotel window-

She bolted upright, hangover almost entirely forgotten, eyes wide as she starred around the room that was unmistakably Derek's. Sheets tumbling off her body, she felt a shiver of cold overtake her half naked body, and sighed with a sense of relief to discover the rest of her was fully clothed. Her sweater folded neatly at the side of the bed to her right, bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table, bag set thoughtfully at the foot of the bed, she frowned to find the other side of the bed vacant though still slightly warm, and a faintly wonderful smell drifting through the slightly open door to the stairs.

She dressed quickly, throwing on her sweater from yesterday and thankful for her bag of belongs as she hunted for her phone. Popping several aspirin and downing the water in one gulp, she pushed herself to her feet with a faint grumble and a wave of apprehension as she made her way out of the room. What was she supposed to do now? Did he expect her to just leave, or was she supposed to . . .?

She made her way down the stairs slowly, bag slung over her shoulder and eyes searching for the familiar figure of the director. She heard a faint clinking from the kitchen, a more apparent fizzle of the stove as she approached, and she rounded the corner to see Derek, in a pair of sweats and nothing else, bent over a frying pan and surrounded by a crowd of ingredients. Hearing her approach, he turned and smiled, his expression turning into a smirk as she looked at the kitchen, rather stunned.

"Good morning," He said with a slight chuckle in his voice, scooping the eggs out of the pan and separating them on to two plates, along with toast and several other sides. Karen watched him, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine, actually. Thank you," Her voice was almost a whisper, her form still frozen in the doorway, and he turned to grin at her again. She managed to smile back. "And yourself?"

"Better then I've slept in quiet a long time darling," He pulled out two cups and moved to the fridge. His voice was slightly muffled by the door of the refrigerator, he asked, "Do you like orange juice?"

"Um, yes. Sure," Derek nodded in agreement and pulled out the carton, pouring the glasses and setting them down on the island the. Karen moved politely towards it and, depositing her bag on a stool, took a sip. "You didn't have to do all of this," She gestured around, and Derek shook his head skeptically.

"Nonsense," He said, ending the matter swiftly and turning to another pan on the stove. Picking up a fork, he cut into his own plate of eggs beside him and picked up a forkful. "Did you take ayn aspirin?" he asked through a full mouth. "I thought you might want one, so I left it by the bed."

"Yeah," she said quietly, and he beamed as he checked the pan again. There was a long moment of silence, interrupted by a quiet curse as Derek stirred the pan. "I didn't know you could cook."

Derek chuckled under his breath, eliciting another raised eyebrow from Karen, and he smirked. "That's rather debatable Love," Karen smirked skeptically, leaning against the counter as another silence fell over the kitchen, and after a moment Karen moved from where she was standing. Crossing the kitchen in several quick, silent strides, she came to stand directly behind Derek, and wrapped his arms around his waist. Surprised, her felt his muscles tense suddenly before relaxing into her grip, and she reached up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek from behind. She could feel him smiling as her lips lingered

"Thank you Derek," She whispered quietly, chin almost resting on his shoulder. He continued to stir the food. "For last night, and for everything. You've been really sweet to me." Karen watched over his shoulder as he moved the food from the burner onto the plates, and then relaxed onto the balls of her feet. He set down his cooking utensils and laid his hands on hers, running his finger tips along her interlaced fingers.

"It's nothing, really darling," She laid her head against his back, closing her eyes and sighing as she listened to his heartbeat, and he reached out to grab the plates with either hand. Moving in her grasp, her turned so that they were facing one another, and smiled a soft smile. "You deserve it." Leaning forward, he kissed her sweetly, and as she released him he set the dishes on the counter, one for him and one for her. He looked at her and smiled. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded, but a little bubble of guilt roes inside her, and she shifted uncomfortably. She bit her lip for a moment, and he noticed. "I promised Jessica and the other's I'd go to breakfast with them before rehearsal today," She finished with an apologetic grimace on her face, but only a twinge of disappointment flickered across Derek's face. He smiled in consolation, and she tried to smile back.

"You'll be missing out on sampling my excellent cooking skills," He said sarcastically, and Karen smiled as she slipped on her heels, which had been neatly placed at the foot of the counter with Derek's other shoes.

"I would love to take some with me," Scooping up the plate in one hand and grabbing her bag with the other, she leaned in and kissed the rather sulky smile from his lips. "And dinner tonight, alright? We can both cook this time," Derek smiled.

"Sounds perfect," Karen beamed at him, and made her way to the door.

"I'll see you at rehearsal," Derek nodded and smirked. In the doorway, she turned and smiled at him. "Bye."

"Goodbye," The door closed with a quiet click.

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**End Chapter eleven! Good old Derek, doing the right thing . . . Hurray! New update soon, even sooner if you would care to leave a review. You are all terrific, thank you yet again.**


	12. Chapter 12

**So . . . Umm . . . Wow, I am actually at a loss for words. The amount of feedback on the last chapter was beyond incredible, like actually wonderful, and I can't say thank you enough times to justify it. Really, I'm about to hit one hundred reviews and . . . that is **_**so**_** far exceeding anything I ever dreamed of happening. I am completely in your debt, my wonderful readers, and I can only hope this story continues to satisfy. A million 'thank you's would not be enough, but I will grant them anyway!**

**Disclaimer: As the majority of you may be aware, I do not own Smash. That belongs to NBC. **

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Karen moved in with Derek. It wasn't an altogether overly grand or complicated decision; if anything, it was rather anticlimactic to be honest, though he still felt the happiness of the act like a warmth in his chest. It was simply easier for him, for Karen, and for the secrecy of their actions. With the move from Boston to Los Angeles, and with their mutual intentions to continue seeing each other, it was simply easier for Karen to drop her bags in his room. With her many nightly exploits with the ensemble, it made the process of slipping back to their shared hotel room much simpler, rather than negotiating the tricky business of changing rooms unobserved.

It was entirely more straightforward that they simply share dinner in their room instead of dancing around the rest of the cast to rendezvous for private meetings. It was simpler that they share a bed, that they sleep together instead of traipsing back to their separate rooms in the ungodly hours of the night to the disturbance and suspicion of the cast. It was easier that they sit together in the mornings, eating, reading, working and talking, rather then engaging in such activities within or post rehearsal, and what better way to do that then to simply spend their nights together. Though the threat of discover still lingered like a haze above their heads, the had concluded –without discussion or any disturbance in the slightest- that the situation was for the best. Easier for everyone.

_Well_, Derek smiled at his hotel room ceiling, combing his fingers gently through her chestnut curls. _Not necessarily for everyone. In all honesty, only for the pair of us_. But the idea suited Derek just fine. He clung to his miniscule, camouflaged, Karen-filled world with greedy –if gentle- fingers, and relished in the time they spent alone together. And though it wasn't intimate in the way he was used to, it was a different kind of closeness, that never the less sent tingles through him.

The closeness of her wonderfully brewed coffee in the morning, a mug waiting on his bedside table. The closeness in the silence that they shared along with their space, comfortable and at ease as one scribbled and the other spun. The intimacy of a quite conversation with whispered words and gentle laughs, of her body seated comfortably against his, back molded to his chest as she read a book, his fingers toying with her hair as he skimmed reviews. A kind of familiarity that could not be gained from passionate nights, and only from the moment when she would curl against him, breaths soft and even, and he would sleep with a smile on his face. _Domesticity_. He played with the word, a quiet kind of smirk on his face, and it rolled off his tongue like the sweetest syrup. Despite his many misgivings on the matter of this word, he found now that he loved every second of it.

Of course, as previously stated, it had its downsides. There was the moment when he had fiddled with his door key, finding he could not unlock the handle and knocked for Karen just as Jessica had rounded the corner. He had been forced hold the door shut as he prayed for her to pass without recognizing the room number. As such, there had been the morning Karen's friends came to pick her up for lunch before rehearsal, and Derek –rolling out of bed in his simple sweatpants- had very nearly answered their persistent knocking before Karen had flown across the room to intercept him.

And so the days continued on, a kind of nervous state of secrecy combined with the complete contentment of the time they spent together, and Derek Wills decided he was happy. The realization of such a fact, what with the stress of the new production and lack of –to put it bluntly- intercourse was beyond wonderful, and he doubted the others noticed, but he found himself smiling more and frowning less, his entire demeanor lifted. And all thanks to Miss Karen Cartwright, of all people.

He knew he didn't deserve it; he had never merited an ounce of the affection she offered him, and he almost felt guilty at allowing her to be with him. Well, he though grimly, it was undoubtedly settling for him, as she could unquestionably win the heart of any man she 'fancied'. She could have anyone in the world, he was sure of it, and yet, out of them all she had chosen him. The sleazy, apathetic, mal-tempered director, and she had showered him with her happiness and joy in opposition to his anger and glares. In some ways, he would like to think they were the perfect couple; as far as the theory of opposite attraction, they fit the category like a glove. His furrowed frowns juxtaposed to her beaming smiles, his scowls contrasting her gentle laughter, and at the sound he couldn't help but chuckle as well.

She had changed him, without his consent or even his realization until the process had already begun. Entirely out of his control, he found his mood was softer around her, his step light and his words more gentle. He could only hope now that this transformation was for the better, that in the end his softened heart might win over hers, and he could finally prove himself. Not as the dominating, tyrannical, overly self-assured director, but as someone worthy of Karen as a significant other. Of course he found never tantamount to anything even approaching the kind of person he should be for her; but maybe he could make up for the mistakes he had already made, and the ones he would make. Maybe, just maybe, he could be just enough for her.

He blinked, eye focusing back onto the stage as Karen attempted the kick designated for that line of 'Let's Be Bad', her heel very nearly connecting with Bobby's stomach and she stumbled to she regained her stance, whispering apologies-

"No, no Karen!" Well, he wouldn't be proving his affection to her today. At work he was Derek, the moody, demanding dictator, and she was the star. There was nothing less, and certainly nothing more, then a professional relationship between the two. Derek grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet, discarding his pen and strolling through the aisles to the stage. The rest of the cast cleared away rather fearfully, several sending Karen apologetic looks as they caught there breath, but Karen's eyes were wide and strong as he approached. Ascending the steps, his shoes clicking across the darkened wood, he moved behind her and put a hand on her shoulder blade.

"Again," Compliant without complaint, Karen repeated the move, Derek guiding her with one hand and supporting her as she stumbled. Shaking his head, he scowled and turned her to face him. "Tighter, Miss Cartwright. Can we do that?" Karen nodded, lips pursed in an entirely far to distracting way, and Derek let out a short breath. "Again."

She repeated the move again, and again, and again. Still too large, still not condensed enough for the space we had to occupy. If anything, Karen Cartwright was made far too perfectly for the Broadway stage, large and grand as it was. Though she unconsciously knew how to fill every nook and cranny of a space and shine on stage, she had no concept of how to minimize herself to fit the smaller screen so to speak, as testimony to her brief time in the ensemble. She was destined to be a star, but right now, she needed to be a smaller one.

Finally, Derek let out an exasperated sigh and pulled Karen to him, interrupting another attempt at correcting her form and instead taking a deep breath. "Everyone take five," He shouted, and he felt Karen jump in his grasp. "Apart from Miss Cartwright, who will continued to attempt the correct dance moves." There was a quiet shuffling of feet and the whispered beginnings of conversations as the ensemble began to exit the stage, and Derek turned Karen to face him, putting a hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder.

"You, darling, are indeed a star," He starred up and over her shoulder, but he could see Karen eyeing him rather skeptically. A smirk pulled at the corner or her mouth.

"Come to flatter me, have you?" She teased, and Derek tried not to smile as his eyes glazed over, focusing his mind on their moving feet.

"Well yes, of course," Karen scoffed, and Derek quirked a smile. "But not exactly. You shine, but you need to know when to pull back," Karen nodded, and Derek dropped his eyes to hers, smirking again. "When to bring in some cloud cover." Karen took and deep breath and huffed, lowering her gaze to watch her feet as she turned away from him and kicked out again. Derek, hands supporting her at the hips, nodded as she turned back to him.

"I'm trying," She sounded so young, so incredibly green yet not at all childish, and Derek allowed himself a true smile. "It's difficult-"

"I know," He interrupted, and rubbed her hip gently with the hand that held it, grazing it along the small of her back. "You're doing wonderfully." For a moment, she smiled, and then her body jumped and stiffened, as if touched by an electric shock. Head darting back and forth with wide eyes, she looked up at him with furrowed brow.

"Derek," She warned with a slight shake of her head, and he could feel the nervous energy coursing through her in her next move. His hand ghosted her hips in support, and she returned to his grasp with a rather worried look on her face. Derek shook his head and chuckled slightly.

"Relax," He whispered, thought even at a normal volume their words would be impossible to hear from more then two feet away, and by any member of the ensemble still in the vicinity. Karen still looked slightly cautious, and Derek took the opportunity to grab her hand and rub his thumb discreetly along her fingers. "I'm the womanizing director, remember? I have to play my part."

Karen managed a smile at that, and said, "And I have to act like I don't relish in your unwarranted affection," Derek's heart jumped at the word _relish_, and he moved himself slightly closer to her. She shook her head and smiled at his rather smug expression. "Don't smirk at me like that."

"It's simply nice to know that I have some kind of affect on you," Derek said, and chuckled at her rather incredulous smile. He nodded his approval as he followed the motion of her hips, her arms swinging out and turning, bending, and extending. Derek smiled when she looked back at him, mimicking his previously smug expression.

"Satisfied?" She asked, resting one hand on his shoulder, and he nodded with a small smile.

"Very," They continued to dance, moving slowly across the stage, and Derek sighed. "However, I'm indebted to pretend I don't, as to _relish_ in more time I can spend with you."

"You spend all day with me," Karen was blushing, but she hid it beneath her dark hair, falling forward in soft curls onto her cheeks. Derek beamed at her.

"Not like this," She smiled at him, more widely then she had all day, and Derek felt a flutter of joy in his stomach.

"So," She said and straightened her back a little bit, meeting his eyes again and moving her hand to run her thumb unconsciously across her collarbone. Derek's eyes flitted down to it and back up, smirking, "The entire pretense of my terrible dancing was simply an elaborate set up for you to get to dance with me?" Derek laughed now, containing the noise to a soft chuckle, and shook his head.

"I'd like you to think I'm that clever," Karen giggled under her breath she swayed her hips in time to the imagined song, eyes blinking slowly as he shook his head. "But no, that was not my initial intention, though I am pleased that it resulted in such. And I would never say your dancing resembles anything close to terrible."

"You do realize you're being rather risky don't you?" Karen asked again, acknowledging his comment with a smile yet still slightly unsure, and Derek looked rather playfully annoyed.

"You seem rather on edge," Karen shrugged and bit her lip, and Derek only smiled. He stepped slightly closer as she completed the move again, putting his head next to hers so that her hair brushed his cheek. Without thinking, he continued in a chipper tone, "Is it wrong that I want to dance with my girlfriend?"

He couldn't see her face, but as the words slipped out, be could imagine the plethora of emotions that found flicker across her features. He felt them to, his words a surprise even to himself, yet the distinct difference between the pair of them was his ability to hide his feelings. He waited for what seemed like forever, their bodies still moving in time, and he could only hope she was smiling.

"Am I . . . your girlfriend?" The question was the epitome of tentative, and yet he felt a surge of excitement as it sounded rather hopeful. One hand still wrapped around hers, he squeezed it gently, not really knowing what to say.

"Am I your boyfriend?" He whispered the question, and she pulled her head away from his, eyes uncertain but not upset, one eyebrow raised slightly. They appraised each other for moment, eyes locked on the others, before Karen's face cracked into a large smile. Derek beamed back as she began to laugh.

"You do realize how incredibly insufferable you are, don't you?" Derek let out a real laugh now, loud and unrestrained, and Karen shook her head as she smiled at him. He flashed her a very toothy smile, laughter still rumbling in his chest, and despite his smile his eyes still held a question. "And your answer is yes, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Derek asked mockingly, and Karen scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Well good, as my answer is the same." Smiling an almost uncontrollable smile, she giggled softly as she leaned forward, resting her chin in the crook of his shoulder, blinking slowly and looking around-

Eyes, everywhere, wide and uncertain, uncomprehending. Stunned faces, mouths hung open in astonishment, bodies frozen mind-motion as all gazes focused in on her. On both of them, as Derek's laughter continued to echo through the strangely silent room. She felt herself stiffen, muscles tightening, fingers digging unconsciously into Derek's palm as her heart rate escalated. Everyone was watching them.

"Derek," She whispered, and felt him tense too. She tried to hide her panic. "Everyone . . ." He realized what she was saying before she could finish, his head darting quickly from side to side as he observed the onlookers. Instantly, almost simultaneously, them jumped apart, hand dropping from each other's grasp, bodies creating space as though the other had contracted some kind of virus. Derek swallowed once and looked around, not locking eyes with the gaze of the onlookers but taking them by too much surprise to look away, and his gaze darted to Karen.

Her chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly, her bottom lip turning white beneath the pressure of her teeth, she was blushing something fierce and refused to meet his gaze. Gaze darting back and forth, eyes wide with oncoming terror, she was tucking her hands into her long sleeves, wrapping her fingers in the material as she pulled at the bottom end of her shirt. He could feel his own nerves bursting inside him, like a flood of energy, and he tried his best not to run his hands through his hair as Karen let out a stuttered, nervous breath.

"Oui!" He shouted, his voice far stronger then he would have imagined, and he found his face settling into a mask of anger. There was a consecutive leap of surprise the surrounding occupants of the theater, and a round of nervous shuffling ensued. "What the bloody hell are you all doing?" No one offered an answer, most pairs of eyes falling to the floor and bodies turning away, pretending they hadn't been starring. The majority of the chorus was unashamed, watching open mouth before attempting concealed whispers to one another. However, even Julia and Tom were watching, concealed behind a flutter of sheet music, and Eileen and Linda, engaged in a non-existent conversation. Derek fumed as he caught their eyes, trying to bury his own terror and uneasiness.

"All of you!" He continued, face set into a scowl, and avoided looking at Karen. He could almost feel her blush, burning white against his side and radiating from the younger woman as she took the smallest of steps away from him. "Get back to work! I want 'Let's Be Bad', from the top-"

"Derek," Eileen's voice, from the wings of the stage, and he turned to her and crossed his arms. Slowly, her eyes moved from Tom, to Julia, to Linda, each team member nodding slightly as she looked at them inquiringly. She turned back at Derek once their affirmation was clear, crossing her arms in turn and starring at him rather forcefully. "A word please," Derek rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow skeptically. Eileen gestured at the other three. "With all of us."

For a moment he stood, prepared to ignore their requests and continue with rehearsal, but he felt the notion deflate like balloon. Unhurried but slightly dejectedly, he crossed the stage and followed Eileen back behind the curtain, feeling rather defeated as he looked back. Karen stood where he had left her, standing center stage and looking rather hopelessly alone as he let himself be steered away, until Jessica came up beside her and grabbed her hand. Karen turned to the other girl quickly, surprised by her touch, and the usually joyful young woman wore a very serious expression.

"Iowa, we need to talk," Karen looked concerned, and glanced back one last time to meet Derek's eyes as Jessica began to pull her away. "Now."

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**Chapter twelve . . . Yeah! Sorry it's a little shorter then the others, but I'll come back with a longer one next time! So what do you think? They've been discovered . . . Ooh! So exciting! Sorry, for the late-ish update, the next one with be up much sooner, I promise. Again, so much thanks to everyone who has read the story so far, and especially to those who have reviewed! Hugs and presents to all of you! Hurray!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey there! So sorry again for the late update, I've been really busy! Like strangely busy . . . it's summer for goodness sake! Well, anyway, I'm back, and . . . umm . . . I broke one hundred reviews, which is . . . wow . . . no thanks to me at all! It is all thanks to you, the amazing readers and reviewers! If I've not said it enough already, you are all so, so, so wonderful! Hurray for triple digits! Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you!**

**Oh, and I've slightly lost track of timeline of this story -though I was trying very hard to keep track of the days- and so some references to date may not be a hundred percent accurate. Sorry! My bad!**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

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Derek stalked through the wings, trailing in Eileen's wake as she led the company backstage. Throwing open the door to her recently claimed office, Derek proceeded to cross the room and lean against the back of a chair, arms crossed and scowling. It could have resembled any of their previous meetings if it wasn't for the other three, all of whom remained standing and tense in contrast with the more relaxed positions they usually took. They stood, forming an unintentional semicircle around the director, and Derek rather felt like the prey, predators slowly circling.

There was a long and unendurably painful silence, composed in majority of quick, nervous glances between Eileen, Tom and Julia, and Derek let out an exasperated sigh. Yawning widely and absentmindedly checking the clock, he watched rather smugly as Tom fumed at his disregard, and Derek waited for him to break. It was obvious that they were waiting for –or at least hoping that- Derek would initiate some form of conversation, but the director had not intentions of such pleasantries. If they wanted to talk, then they better damn well have something to say.

Unsurprisingly, Tom was the first to break the silence.

"I can't believe this," The other man threw his arms in the air, scowling, and ran them through his hair. Derek looked on with raised eyebrows. "I told you this you happen," Tom turned to Julia, gesticulating and she gave a rather haggard nod. "I told you this would happen!"

"You told me this would happen," Julia responded slowly, nodding once, and Tom ran a hand through his hair. It flopped back onto his head with much less disturbance then he must have intended.

"When we hired this- this _reptile_," Tom gestured at Derek, eyes alive with anger, and the director raised his hands in protest.

"Lay off!" He responded, scowl equal to that of the composers, and Tom rolled his eyes. "I do believe this is slightly unwarranted-"

"Unwarranted?" Eileen and Tom said in unison, though the producer displayed much less vexation then the latter, and Derek's eyebrows quirked.

"Yes, unwarranted," Tom turned his back to the director, letting out a hallow laugh and stalking across the room. And though Derek knew full well what each of them was getting at, he was not about to give them the satisfaction of his lenience. "If this has something to do with the show-"

"It has _everything _to do with the show!" Tom exclaimed, exasperated. "And with your apparent lack of professionalism in your selfish personal endeavors-"

"_I'm_ not professional?" Derek asked, attempting to contain his outrage. "Bloody hell, you've got to be joking! May I remind you, Tom, that your 'personal endeavors' in this show were the only reason we cast Ivy in the workshop-"

"Ivy was, and is, terrific," Eileen interjected with a hint of annoyance, perhaps hoping to gain some control over the situation. "She is a very talented young woman-"

"I am well aware," Derek fumed, keeping his expression neutral. "But if you'd gotten over your friendship and been bloody able to say no to her, Tom, then we could have skipped over the fiasco of the last couple months-"

"A fiasco caused by your relationship with her!" Tom cried, and Derek rolled his eyes, scoffing loudly. "If you'd damn well left her alone-"

"Oh sod off," Derek almost simpered, shaking his head in disgust. "You can't honestly think that was my doing? You, of all people, are well aware of Ivy's-"

"Yes," Tom glowered, "Ivy has some personal setbacks to work around," Derek's eyes widened in mock astonishment at his words, and Tom gripped the back of the chair in front of him. "But it was not _helped_ by your proposed relationship with her-"

"Ivy is a big girl," Derek interjected, with only a hint of sarcasm. "You can't expect me to coddle her, you are well aware that she is fully capable of making her own decisions. You can't honestly blame her fall on me-"

"This conversation is not about Ivy!" Eileen shouted, stepping between the two men in a physical attempt to separate them and break the heated exchange. "Now would both of you stop this childish behavior at once!"

"Immature being a more appropriate term," Tom said softly from behind the producer's cover, and Derek could hear the sneer in his voce. Julia laid a hand on Tom's shoulder, and Derek chose to ignore the final comment.

"Well, if this isn't about Ivy," Derek continued after a moment of silence, "Then what the hell is it about? If you don't mind, I have a show to direct-" Derek made to move forward, pushing the chair away from him with a slight squeak, and Eileen stepped towards him. Laying a forceful hand on his chest, her gaze was daggers as she smiled sweetly.

"Derek, stay where you are," She stated coldly, and Derek raised both eyebrows when she quirked a smile. "We aren't nearly done yet."

"Well then what the bloody hell is this all about?" As Eileen turned away from him to stand yet again by the others, Derek wrapped his fingers around the back of the chair behind him and looked as skeptical as he could manage.

"Oh don't play stupid, Derek," Tom simpered. "I know it must be easy-"

"Tom," Julia said quietly, rubbing her fingers gently into Tom's shoulder, and the composer sighed very quietly. Julia finally turned to look at Derek, her face baring a rather apologetic expression, and the director nodded in acknowledgment of the sentiment. Julia nodded back.

"Honestly, Derek," Eileen said after the briefest of waits. "It isn't exactly subtle, or unexpected to Tom's credit." Derek looked as bewildered as he could, though on the inside he was awash with a mix of emotions. Part anger, part nerves, part unhappiness, but the only thought he could acknowledge was that he was **not** about to have this conversation with them. He _thought_ he and Karen had been more reclusive . . .

"It is rather obvious, Derek," Julia interjected, her first statement since the beginning of the argument, and Derek appraised her slowly. "I mean the way both of you've carried yourselves lately, Karen-"

"We can't beat around the bush with this," Tom spat, apparently exceeding the about of time he was able to restrain his snide comments. "It's obvious the two of them are screwing each other-"

"Tom!" Eileen cried, her gaze even darker then it had been when directed at Derek, and Julia lifted her hands from his shoulder to her mouth.

"Tom, please-"

"Show a little decency, alright?" Derek bellowed over the other two, pushing himself into a standing position and glowering at Tom, hands balled into fists. "Can you at least care to show a little respect?" This conversation felt all too familiar, but he steeled himself as dropped his hands to his pockets. He resolved, silently, not to punch Tom, despite the satisfaction he knew it would grant; he doubted the composer would be able to put up as much of a fight as that tosser of an ex-boyfriend.

To his credit, Tom looked rather bashful and ashamed, and nervously linked his fingers. Though his expression still appeared angry, he let his eyes express his apology. "That was indecent of me, but it's the truth." At that, all three of them looked to Derek questioningly.

"Come on Derek," Eileen seemed almost patronizing, as if disappointed in him. "Karen?"

"Really?" Julia interjected with an almost frustrated sigh, and Derek turned his gaze to each of them in turn. He shook his head slowly, understanding the about of warrant and justification of their suspicions, but still feeling slightly attacked.

"No, for your information, it is not 'the truth'," Derek said, his anger getting the better of him. 'Karen and I are _not_ sleeping together, as you all so considerately assumed, so if you wouldn't mind-"

He made to push past them, but the group unconsciously closed in, not truly affectively blocking his exit but preventing and easy escape. Sighing, Derek leaned back against Eileen's temporary desk.

"Derek," Julia began softly, all three obviously not believing his words. "Karen is a very talented, a very caring, very sweet-"

"Very young, very green, very _innocent_ girl," Tom continued when he could see the lack of fortitude Julia held. He stretched the second to last word, far more then was completely necessary, but the point hit home. Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "She is a lovely young woman and a wonderful Marilyn-"

"And an incredible generator of investors, to be completely fair," Eileen put forward, and the other two nodded, all gazes locked on him. Derek was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "But she is also very . . ."

"Inexperienced," Tom offered quietly.

"Light," Julia interjected.

"_Naïve_, as far as the world of theater goes," Eileen said patiently. "And she needs to learn how to handle herself before sh-"

"Oh for God's sake!" Derek had had enough of this. "She's not an idiot! I don't-"

"We are all very well aware of that," Eileen continued over his shouting. "She is an incredibly bright and gifted young woman, who simply does not know how to handle herself with the likes of you." And there was their point, finally laid out for him to see. And this fact, the simple fact of her youth and lack of experience, had kept him up many a night ridden with guilt as she lay beside him. Was he -despite his dropping of the snide director attitude, despite the amount of distance he employed on himself in order to make sure she was respected, despite how much he deeply and truly cared about her- taking advantage of her youth and guilelessness? But then she would wake in the morning, and she would smile a full, caring smile, and he'd remember what she'd said about love. And maybe he didn't understand it, but she did, and she wouldn't be with him if she didn't think-

"Derek," Julia said again, laying a hand on his arm. "Please, she may be a magnificent Marilyn, but she's just a child." And Derek shook his head at that. Karen Cartwright, of all things that she could be, was not a child. He had thought as much as far as casting had gone; that she would be an easy, eyelash batting, nervously giggling catch that he could fall into bed with without consequences. And how incredibly wrong he had been.

Despite her nervous fluttering, her anxious blinking and tense chirping, she had held her own beautifully that night, and to his equal delight and hatred. If only they knew, if only he could tell them about his rejection, if only to prove to himself and to the rest of them that she was far from the fragile, nervous bird they seemed to believe she was. Sure, _Bombshell_ offered something towards that goal; tantamount to the fact that the trio before him was allowing the show to ride rather heavily on her shoulders, they must believe her bones to be less hallow then previously thought. However, this didn't change their lack of faith in her.

"Look, she's not as fragile as you all seemed to think," Contrary to his intentions, he snapped the words. "She is, despite her inexperience, perfectly capable of handling herself."

"You don't-"

"I have made a pass before," Derek interrupted smoothly, crossing his arms and shuffling rather self-consciously at his confession. However, he held their eye contact, his gaze serious. "And she handled it. She can take care of herself."

"What, so rejecting the great Derek Wills is now a feat onto itself?" Tom's voice cut painfully through the silence, and Derek closed his eyes slowly and bit his lip, breaths hot and angry.

"Thank you, Tom, for undermining my point," Derek sighed and rubbed his palms into his eyes. "But yes, I would think so. But it doesn't matter, in any case, as we are not sleeping together," Again, not sense of belief from any members of the company, and Derek scowled. "Where are these accusations coming from, anyway?"

"Derek, it's not like you're hiding it," And though he knew their accusations were correct, he scowled to the best of his ability. "Ever since the auditions . . ."

"You treat her differently," Julia kindly filled the space, laying a hand on Derek's arm. "You're kinder to her, which has always been a bit odd-"

"And she's making you laugh?" Eileen was openly skeptical, and Derek rolled his eyes. "No one makes you laugh, I'm sorry, but not during rehearsal."

"So she rejects you, and this is how you play her instead?" Tom said angrily, only half listening to the rest of the conversation. "If she's smart, she won't fall into bed with you because you're just being _nice_ to her, which frankly-"

"Will you shut up, Tom?" Derek bellowed, laying both hands on the other man's shoulders and shoving him back as the director stalked toward the door. "I'm done with all this, we are not having this conversation! Which is useless in any case," He rounded on them, sneering at Tom who wore a rather contemptuous smile, and spoke through his teeth, "As Karen and I are **not **sleeping together."

"Derek," Eileen said loudly, her voice commanding as he grabbed the handle of the door. "With your reputation and track record, particularly our experiences with this show, I find that impossible to believe. What the hell is going on?" Hands on hips, eyes narrowed into a glare, Derek sighed and pried the handle from his grasp. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, fully aware of its rather weak appearance and blew out a hot, angry breath.

"So we're _dating_, alright?" To the director, the word itself sounded slightly demeaning, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to avoid their gazes. A permanent scowl now grazed his features. "Does it matter?"

"So you are sleeping together," Tom stated, his voice flat and his demeanor void of emotion, and Derek physically restrained himself with a hand on the table behind him.

"This is a disaster," Eileen interjected before the director could respond, throwing her hands into the air and stalking across the room to the window, leaving Julia standing rather haplessly at Tom's side.

"Does it really even matter?" Choosing to ignore Tom's previous statement, Derek directed his question at Eileen. The director tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt, holding his mouth in a hard line to avoid scowling as the producer turned to him.

"Of course it matters, are you daft?" Eileen rounded, face pulled into her best attempt at a scowl, and Julia looked slightly abashed at the rather melodramatic turn of events.

"Eileen, I don't think-" Julia started, but the producer didn't seem to hear.

"Listen," She stalked forward, pointing a finger in Derek's chest, and Tom stood rather smugly behind her. Face void of emotion, Derek simply raised his eyebrows with slight bemusement. "In all honesty, I don't care if you're sleeping with Karen or not. That is your business and Karen is a bright girl," Derek nodded his approval, but Eileen glowered at him. "But for the good of this production and the good of Miss Cartwright, you need to end whatever this is immediately."

"No," Derek said, grabbing Eileen's wrist gently and pulling her hand away from his chest.

"No?" Eileen looked rather stunned, and Derek shook his head as Tom stepped forward.

"Derek, this is for her own good. She doesn't understand-"

"Miss Cartwright," Derek retorted. "Is making her own decisions, and it won't interfere with production." Tom scoffed, but Derek ignored him. "I'm not about to let you bully me-"

"Oh for God's sake Derek!" Eileen interrupted. "We aren't bullying you into anything. With your record, I highly doubt that any kind of personal association you have can be kept separate from in professional setting, and if you care about this performance you will end this 'relationship' immediately."

Derek shook his head, now beyond exasperated, and threw his hands in the air. "Bloody hell, what about us? What if I care about her?" He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and with more then slight indigence, and Tom rolled his eyes yet again.

"It is physically impossible for you to care about another human being," Tom spat, and Derek pushed past Eileen and shoved Tom in the chest. Despite Derek's normally platonic and disinterested set of mind, the conversation was becoming more and more infuriating.

"Shut the blasted hell up Tom!" Derek roared. "This conversation is over!" And with that, he pushed past the three of them, Julia still standing rather quietly to the side, and slammed the door open.

"Derek!" Several cries rose from behind, but he refused to turn around. Instead, he shouted over his shoulder:

"I am not about to leave Karen on account of this blasted performance!" Derek stopped off across backstage. "I'm not about to leave her for any reason-" Though no member of the trio had attempted to follow him, he abruptly stopped in his tracks. Through the silence of the theater he could hear a cry of pain, a horrified shout, a terrible sobbing, and he took off running without hesitation. Heart fluttering with sudden panic, chest rising and falling as unexpected anxiety gripped him, he frowned as he heading toward the stage.

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**Uh-oh . . . I sense a climax approaching! Again, I apologize for the late update, I've already started work on the next chapter, so it should be up soon, I promise! Also, I'm starting work on a new Smash story, it's still in the works but I'm hoping to get that out soon . . . yep! Hope the attempted intervention was adequate and satisfactory; reviews are always appreciated! I swear to you will be back soon! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello all! Happy chapter fourteen! As usual, millions and millions of thanks rain down on all the people who reviewed or read the last chapter, and to everyone who follows this story. YOU ARE WONDERFUL! Just so you know! Alright, in other news I added a little photo/icon thing for the story, which I thought was cool new feature whatnot, and I started work on a new story! I haven't uploaded it yet, but be on the lookout if you're interested!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Smash.**

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Ivy starred at her reflection in the mirror, eyes blank, face devoid of emotion. The small orange bottle felt slick in her hand, palms damp with sweat, and she took a deep shaky breath as she turned her attention to it. Slowly, without thought, she tipped the contents into her other hand, watching as the pills tumbled and rolled onto each other before settling in her palm, and she swallowed audibly.

Glancing around, eyes flicking across the dressing room, her gaze came to rest on one vanity in particular, and her lips curled into a sneer. Karen Cartwright's, her bag hung over the chair, Marilyn wig resting in the center, Ivy smiled at the scene contemptuously. Karen, the angel from Iowa, her mirror strewn with pictures of her friends and family, table awash with knickknacks and gifts from home, Ivy set down the empty orange canister and curled her hand into a fist. At least there were no pictures of her boyfriend; Ivy had taken _something _with the underhand blow.

And sure, there were pictures of Marilyn, plenty, but as the blonde turned back to her own mirror, she scanned the items with faintly smug disgust. Hers was all Marilyn; ever single last photo was the beautiful icon that deserved to take up her space. No distractions with friends, not intrusions with family, she knew this girl as if she were her own sister, and that was all she need. Or all she should have needed.

It was hers. The part was hers, set in stone from the very first audition. She knew Marilyn, she could be Marilyn, she _was_ Marilyn, and yet that fantasy had slipped by so quickly she could barely remember if it was real. To bring in a star was enough; she knew full well Rebecca wasn't worth a cent of the fortune they were undoubtedly roping her with, and would certainly crumple in due time. A star was fine, a star was weak and shallow, but Karen Cartwright was stepping over an unbreakable line, never to return again. Because Karen Cartwright deserved nothing of the admiration they showered her with.

She was a nobody, a nothing, too caught up in a world of friends and lovers to provided what the play needed, what Marilyn needed. To distracted to care the way Ivy did, to soft and kind to want it as much as Ivy wanted it, and yet it was handed to her, presented on a silver platter. And she was magnificent, the notion true but the mere thought causing Ivy to shudder. Ivy was focused, and ready, and certain as she waited for her part to be handed back, but doe-eyed, smiling, innocent Miss Cartwright had swept it out from underneath her before she could even gain her balance. And even despite Ivy's counter attack, despite her own knife in Karen's back, the girl didn't fall. Instead, she turned around, performance unquestionably heightened by her newfound heartbreak, and blew everyone off their feet. And Ivy hated her for it.

And yet, she had restrained herself that night. She had held back, hands shaking as she returned the pills to the bottle and set in on her vanity with shuddering breaths. She had fought the terrible pain and anger, because she knew she had one thing left. And even if it wasn't hers, it would be hers again soon, and the part- _her_ part would be quick to follow. Derek Wills.

At that moment, as she returned the medication to its proper place with trembling hands, she knew that she had one thing left, and that thing was a doorway the role she knew belonged to her. Derek, who loved her; Derek, who cared about her; Derek, who had believed in her ever since the workshop, and beyond that. He had called the Cartwright girl a scarred rabbit, useless on stage and to him, and whatever power had changed his mind, Ivy knew it would be easy to turn back around. And maybe somewhere, deep down inside her, she loved Derek, but that was only an added bonus. With him, she could get both, and she put the pills away with a scheming smile.

But even that was gone, her plan shattered at the site she had just witnessed, her life crushed and crumpled and discarded like the unwanted rubbish that it was. The way he had held Karen, hands delicately on her waist, body held close, his chin dipping to her ear as he whispered to her. And his smile, full, open and beaming, his laugh loud and uncontrolled as she beamed and they moved gracefully across the stage. As if they were one being, undeniably connected a contained within their own world, his eyes lit up as he spoke with her, his face glowed with a happiness he tried to contain during rehearsal. His smile was filled with such emotion that Ivy could have only described it as love, and she began to feel sick as she thought of it.

She had taken everything; Karen Cartwright had stolen her entire life, taken it with a nervous, tentative smile and a stumbling laugh. She had taken it all; everything Ivy had wanted, everything she'd had, everything she'd ever dreamed of and sucked it up like that great black hole most usually reserved only for her mother. Ivy knew the look Derek gave Karen, and he had never looked at Ivy in that way, and Iowa didn't deserve it. Karen didn't need it, Karen didn't _really_ want it, not enough to claw her way to the top as Ivy had so desperately tried. And yet Karen had family, she had her friends, she had the role, she had her boyfriend-

The blonde sunk her fingers into the pills, pulling out four at a time and starring at them in the blinding light of the vanity. She had nothing now, nothing left to want and nothing left to give, and she laid the pills deftly on her tongue. Swallowing slowly, she smiled a crooked smile at herself in the mirror. No one needed her anymore. She grabbed four more pills.

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"We aren't sleeping together," Karen was deadpanned, starring at all of them with disbelief at their so easily constructed stereotypes. The ensemble, however, was unforgiving, and each member starred back openly as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Jessica having lead her to the break room and into one of the cushioned seats, the company had gathered, congregation around her like a swarm of birds, and Karen because increasingly uncomfortable as more members continued to flock. Bobby shook his head at her.

"Really Iowa; if it's just sex, it's just sex. We won't hold it against you," Bobby intervened, picking at his nails and meeting her gaze fleetingly before Dennis shoved him in annoyance.

"Bobby, stop it," He responded, Sue and Jessica nodding agreement, and Bobby raised his hands defensively. Turning to Karen, he started, "I'm sorry, there's no way we can back you up on this one sweetie."

"Karen," Jessica grabbed her hand, and Karen tried her hardest not to pull away. "We tried to warn you; we knew he'd make a move on you and we were just worried-"

"We just care about you honey," Sue said sweetly. "And Derek is a snake."

"A womanizer," Jessica added.

"The Dark Lord himself," Bobby shook his head.

"And you're wading into dangerous territory Iowa," Jessica interjected. "We just wanted to help you out-"

"Enough, alright!" Karen finally said with a slight frown. "I'm not a child, I know what-"

"We know Karen," Bobby cut her off, "But Sauron has captured a lot of women, be them childish or not, and it's never ended well."

"Never," Dennis insisted.

"Ever," Sue nodded.

"Never ever-"

"We aren't sleeping together!" Karen interjected, a note of anger in her voice. "And that's final. I'm not joking guys; Derek hasn't even tried anything since the auditions. I'm perfectly fine."

"But Iowa, honey," Jessica began slowly. "The way he looks at you, and the way you look at him, it's very-"

"Lovey dovey," Bobby interposed. "And very mutual if I might add. There's obviously something going on, and if it's not sex-"

"It isn't," Karen said flatly, and a her stomach jumped as she realized her mistake. The four looked at her, faces seeming to debate whether to grin or frown in disapproval.

"So there _is _something going on then," Sue said slowly, and Karen sighed.

"Yes," She said coldly, and looked at the ground. "But we aren't sleeping together, okay? It's not like that, he's very-"

"A relationship with He Who Must Not Be Named and you _aren't _sleeping together?" Bobby asked, confused. "I don't believe it for a second."

"It's true-" Karen attempted to interject, but Jessica laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Karen," She said softly, "That's just not Derek. He must be after something, and you are his star."

"We just want you to be careful," Dennis said, and Karen only felt slightly guilty at their very serious expression. "We don't want you getting hurt, and it's very unlikely that the Dark Lord is looking for something more in his leading lady."

"That's just not what he does, Iowa," Sue said. "He doesn't date. He plans and he schemes and he coddles his way into bed, but beyond that-"

"Alright, okay, I get it!" Karen stood up, the amount of scrutiny driving her to the edge, and she pushed past them and the rest of the watching crowd. "You're not going to believe me, I get it, but it's the truth-"

"Karen!"

"Iowa, wait!"

"Sweetie, we just-"

"Don't-"

But Karen had stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her and making for the stage. She didn't want to feel angry; she knew they just cared about her, and couldn't understand the situation the way she did. She knew they didn't _know_ Derek, they only knew the Derek that he wanted them to know, yet it was still infuriating that they couldn't seem to understand. They cared about her, and she felt terrible for brushing them off, but right now she needed to talk to Derek and Derek only. She didn't know if she could stand another conversation-

"Hey!" Karen looked up, her steps having already taken her to the wings, and saw Ivy, walking towards her across the stage. Groaning inwardly, Karen turned and prepared to detour behind the curtain, but the older blonde had already seen her. "Hey, Iowa!"

Slowly, and very reluctantly, Karen moved back into view, watching Ivy with an annoyed look as the other woman crossed the stage. Her steps seemed wobbly, sporadic and uncertain, and when she reached Karen, she leaned a hand against the window backdrop of the set for support. Karen crossed her arms and glared, trying to hide her annoyance and slight unease.

"Ivy," She said coldly, her voice and expression neutral. "What can I do for you?" In no mood for pleasantries, she frowned as Ivy's goofy smile dropped into and overly shocked scowl, and the older woman rolled her eyes. In the process, she stumbled slightly to the right and nearly into the set.

"I just wanted to congratulate you," Ivy said with a smirk. Karen crossed her arms more tightly and hid her confusion, watching as Ivy let out a brief chuckle. "Little usurper-"

"You would understand, Ivy," Karen said, ignoring her comment. "If we aren't necessarily on speaking terms, right?" Ivy's eyes widened in mock surprise, putting her other hand on the fake window frame.

"Oh, Iowa's got teeth," The woman grumbled, almost to herself, and Karen bristled. Form her ensemble friends, Iowa was an endearing term; From Ivy, it seemed much more like an undermining insult. "You can let the claws come out, it'll do some good to show the rest of them you're not such an innocent little girl . . ."

Ivy's comment trailed off, and Karen sighed. "Ivy, do you want something?"

"Oh yes," the girl said sweetly, smiling an unbelievably fake smile, and Karen shifted her weight onto one leg, glaring. "I told you, I wanted to congratulate you," Ivy leaned forward as if conspiring, and Karen barely caught her muddled whisper. "For ruining my life."

Karen sighed, and watched as Ivy leaned back. Her eyes unfocused, movements more and more languid, Karen was beginning to feel slightly concerned. But she didn't acknowledge it. "Ivy, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Oh don't play innocent with me!" Ivy snapped, and her voice echoed in the empty auditorium. "You've taken everything from me! Everything! Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it-"

"Ivy, I'm sorry," Karen said, still confused, and she could see tears poking at the other girl's eyes. The older woman stumbled again, and righting herself, jabbed a finger at Karen's chest.

"That," Ivy chocked, "that was supposed to be _my_ part. And it still is! It's my part!" Desperation sneaking into her voice, her body unconsciously tipped forward, and Ivy caught herself with a hand on Karen's shoulder. The younger woman shrugged it off when she deemed Ivy stable.

"Look, I'm sorry Ivy," Karen started, and the blonde rolled her eyes. "But it's not your part-"

"It is!" She cried, throwing her hands in the air. "That part belongs to me! I worked for it! I lived and breathed for it! You, with your stupid small town Iowa smile, you didn't even try! And you stole everything!" A tear slid down Ivy's cheek, and Karen sighed, though she still remained angry.

"Ivy!" She cried, but her voice was still gentle. Something was off about the other woman, but her words still hit home. "I wanted this part just as much as you. You can't say-"

"You didn't want it!" Ivy said, more tears on her cheeks. "You ran away! You left! You didn't fight for it, like I did. I would never run-"

"And I didn't sleep with your fiancé," Karen said coldly, and Ivy raised both her eyebrows as if in acknowledgment. The blonde shrugged.

"Still upset about that, are you?" Karen clenched her teeth, and Ivy smirked a droopy, lopsided smirk. Again, she stumbled sideways and grabbed the curtain to ground herself.

"A bit," Karen spat. "Contrary to the belief of the Broadway world, we actually had a very serious and steady relationship-"

"Mustn't have been that steady," Ivy interjected with a sneer. "If he went and slept with me." Karen opened her mouth to speak, but Ivy ignored her. "You need to grow some thicker skin sweetheart, if you're gonna make it in this town," Her words were muddled now, almost as thought she wasn't quite sure what she was saying, but her face still bore a sneer. "But I can see why you liked him; he was pretty good in bed."

Karen starred at her, open mouthed, and Ivy gazed back, nonplused. "I don't even know why I ever bothered to be nice to you," Karen said as she stalked forward, pushing past Ivy and across the stage. "All you do is try to make me feel bad-"

"But it's okay now, Iowa," Ivy jeered, calling after her as she crossed the stage. Her words echoed through the auditorium. "Because you don't need that Dev anymore. Now," Ivy stumbled toward the younger woman as if attempting to follow her, but Karen did not turn or slow her pace or turn. Ivy pasted on a goofy smirk. "Now, you've got Derek on your arm, who's equally as . . . talented."

"Ivy," Karen curled and uncurled her fingers slowly, trying to take deep breaths, but found herself turning back to the other woman.

"But mind you," Ivy continued ranting, and she slipped again and stumbled as she stalked towards the brunette. "You already knew that, didn't you?" Bending down, Ivy undid the straps of her heels and slipped them off, looping the band around her fingers as she continued to approach.

"Derek and I are not sleeping together," Karen reiterated for the millionth time, and Ivy rolled her eyes. "I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say this before anyone believes me-"

"Well, that's because it isn't true then," Ivy smiled, as if uncovering some dark secret. "Isn't it? You're the star, your young, your easily manipulated-" Karen sucked in a sharp breath, and let it out slowly. "It's mandatory that he get you into bed."

"Well, he hasn't," Karen stated stubbornly. "And he hasn't tried either, alright? If everyone would just lay off."

"Oh come off it!" Ivy spat, throwing her hands in the air and flinging her stilettos wildly. "Oh course he's slept with you. He has to!" She stepped forward again, her voice almost conspiratorial. "He doesn't care about us, Karen. He doesn't care about any of us. Three leading ladies for his complete Marilyn set, and he'll throw you away like your nothing."

Karen felt a faint knot forming at the pit of her stomach, but somewhere deep within Ivy's words, they rang untrue with anger and deceit. Karen set her jaw. "You're right," Karen began, and Ivy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Derek and I are dating, we are together. But we aren't sleeping together, and it's been nearly three months, so I might stop questioning other people relationships and looking back on your own."

Ivy looked slightly stung, but Karen felt a thrill of anger run through her nonetheless. She'd had enough of this childish treatment, and she wasn't going to stand for people's claws in she and Derek's relationship anymore. Everyone, _everyone_, seemed determined to rip it to shreds, but it wasn't as shallow as they all seemed to think. Karen bit her lip and crossed her hands over her chest.

"Our relationship means more then that," Ivy didn't react, simply starring at her, mouth parted slightly. "And we aren't sleeping together." Karen took a deep breath, feeling a faint surge of confidence and preparing herself for the rebuttal.

"I know," And that surprised her. Karen's eyebrows shot upward, mouth relaxing from a determined frown, and she watched as Ivy's shoulders slumped. The older blonde looked exhausted, incredibly dejected as she looked up at Karen with tears shining in her eyes. "I know you're not. I know you're not sleeping together," Ivy took a deep breath. "And that's what makes it worse, isn't it? That it means more then that."

"Ivy," Karen whispered, uncrossing her arms and dropping them limply to her sides, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. The older woman, however, continued speaking without a break.

"Because he really cares about you," Ivy said thickly, starring at the floor of the stage. Her shoes hung limply from one had, her bag dejectedly from her shoulder. "Well, enough that he won't sleep with you. That way he looks at you," Ivy chocked, shaking her head slowly as tears began to fall, thick and fast. "He never looked at me liked that-"

"Ivy," Karen said gently, trying her best not to sound condescending. "Ivy he did-"

"He _never_ looked at me like that," Ivy said, deadpanned, meeting Karen's gaze with a grimace. "He never looked at anyone like that, and he's never going to, Karen. It's been that way ever since the first audition-"

"It hasn't Ivy," Karen attempted to assure her, but in the back of her mind she knew it was a lie. "It hasn't been that way, we just-"

"He always treated you differently," Ivy said through her grimace, shifting her weight slightly. "He always looked at you . . . And then when he told me he was hallucinating about you-" Karen's face dropped into a mask of confusion, uncertain of how to respond, and Ivy caught the slight change. "Oh he didn't tell you, did he?" Karen shook her head, and Ivy's grimace grew more and more strained as she tilted her head. "He saw you as Marilyn, Karen. He _saw_ you."

"I mean he told me that," Karen said quietly, and shifted uncomfortably on the balls of her feet. "But I didn't think he-"

"Well I should have known," Ivy cut in, affectively interrupting her train of thought. "I should have known a long time before that, but I _really_ should have known by the time he told me. I should have realized that he didn't care about me-"

"He did care about you Ivy," Karen almost pleaded, more and more guilt piling onto her shoulders as she listened, though she knew she shouldn't really feel it. "He really did care, he-"

"He threw me away!" Ivy interjected, anger seeping back into her words, and Karen took the smallest of steps back. "He didn't need me anymore! I was just a toy to play with while he waited for his crack at you! He didn't-"

"He didn't leave you for me," Karen corrected, trying to portray the chronology of the events. "Rebecca-"

"Rebecca was a stepping stone!" Ivy cried, her mood swinging wildly from several seconds before, and Karen began to feel more and more ill at ease. In the lights of the stage, the older woman's face was becoming paler and paler, her forehead beginning to perspire. Karen bit her lip. "And expensive stepping stone, I'll grant you that, but he needed someone to wedge in between. They couldn't jump from my Marilyn straight to your Marilyn, anymore then he could jump from me to you."

"This wasn't something he planned out," Karen tried to assure her. "We just-"

"It was all just a game!" Ivy spat, and she sneered at Karen, not hearing her words. "All just a big game while he waited for you!" Ivy laughed openly, throwing her head back and stumbling a few steps forward. "You! Iowa, the nobody from nothingtown! All he wanted was you!"

And Karen didn't know what to say. Sure, Derek had asked her to his apartment almost as soon as they had met, and sure, Karen knew this was before he had made the proposition to Ivy, but did that really mean everything inbetween had been a sham? The younger woman shook her head. It couldn't be, that simply couldn't be the truth.

"And you know he'd think that way," Ivy said, sticking a finger toward her chest. "You know that's all he was really after, and as soon as he could get you the part he could sweep you off your feet just like all your Iowan dreams."

"I didn't," Karen whispered, but her words sounded almost weak next the Ivy's. "I didn't know; I couldn't know. I didn't like Derek, I didn't want Derek. I had Dev, and we were happy."

"You were both toying with me!" Ivy shouted, gaze determined as she starred at the other woman, unwavering. Tears continued to flow, but her face was a mask of anger. "And I just helped it along, didn't I?" As if realizing this for the first time, Ivy stopped her foot angrily and scowled, for all the world like a small child.

"What do you mean-"

"Sleeping with that prick of a fiancé of yours was the best thing I could do for you. Because you got your brilliant Marilyn and your director boyfriend." Ivy spat the words, mouth turned up in a crooked, grimacing smile, and she gave a mocking, stumbling curtsy. "Your welcome." She whispered, and Karen sighed as she turned as if to walk away.

"Ivy," Karen started, and walked several paces after her. She made her expression as apologetic as she could, laying a gentle hand on the other girls shoulder. "Ivy, I never meant to take Derek from you, and I never meant to take your part. I didn't mean for this to hurt you-" Ivy turned around slowly, eyes alive with hatred, and exploded.

"Why don't you hate me?" He shrieked, and Karen stumbled back. The older woman looked so forlorn, staring back at her with pleading contempt in her eyes. Karen was stunned into silence. "Why don't you hate me?" Ivy sobbed, and Karen stood, confused into silence.

"I don't under-"

"You're supposed to hate me!" Ivy said, tears pouring from her eyes as she clenched her fist, and Karen could see the straps of her shoes digging into her palm. "I'm your competition! I'm your rival! You're supposed to hate me with every fiber of your being!" Karen stood, partially open mouthed, and Ivy laugh a cold, dry laugh. "I have done everything I can to undermine you, everything in my power to get rid of you. I hate you!" I laughed harshly again, and Karen frowned, brow furrowed.

"I'm well aware, Ivy," Karen said shortly. "But that doesn't mean-"

"It means that you should hate me too!" Ivy cried, putting her head in her hands. "It means that you should scheme, and plot, and backstab because you hate me more then you'll ever admit."

"Ivy," Karen said pleadingly, her voice soft and kind. "I-"

"Don't," Ivy snapped, lifting her head from her palms. "Don't be nice to me. Please, please, please don't be nice to me. I don't need you're pity oh Miss High-and-Mighty."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't mean it!" Ivy spat, her word like ice. "But you should have meant it! You should humiliate me! You should destroy! And even with the best advantage you have, even with Derek under your thumb, you refuse to shove it in my face! You won't even gloat!"

"I don't want to gloat," Karen said, and Ivy face dropped into a mocking smile. "Ivy, I don't want to hurt you-"

"Why!" Ivy cried, throwing her hands in the air and letting her bag slide off her shoulders, unnoticed as it toppled to the ground and shed it's contents. "Why can't you just relish in it? Why can't you just stoop to my level?" Karen, attention momentarily pulled from Ivy's words, watched as the contents of the older woman's purse rolled across the stage, and her breath caught in her chest.

Pill bottles, bright orange and plain to see, rolling from the bag; two, three, seven, eight, and Karen reached to grab one with her fingers. Entirely empty despite the date of purchase and dosage, and Karen looked around to see a similar state in the others, and felt a thrill of fear run through her. Ignoring Ivy's continued cries, she scrambled through the other woman's bag to find her phone.

"Why don't you hate me?" The other woman continued, tears still flowing, and Karen grabbed the cell phone and pushed herself to her feet. Frantically she woke the screen, only to find –to her dismay- that it was locked. She groaned.

"Ivy, I don't hate," She said as the other woman continued to mumble, and she pushed the phone into her hands. "Unlock that, please."

"Why," Ivy asked, studying the phone through red, puffy eyes. "What is this for?"

"Ivy please," Karen said frantically, her heart beginning to beat against her chest with more and more force. She grabbed Ivy's wrist and wrapped her fingers around the phone. "Please, we need to get you to a hospital Ivy, you not well-"

Ivy laughed again, a sickly twisted laugh, and spread her arms wide. "Why do you care?" Ivy asked, her words slurred as she stumbled sideways. Karen could see her eyes beginning to glaze over even more. "Why do you even care about . . . about me?"

"Ivy, I'm not going to let you die!" Karen said angrily, reaching for the phone, but Ivy spun away from her grasp, losing her grip in the process and sending the hand held fly. It bounced once with a satisfying crunch before skidding into the wings and scattering into a million pieces. Ivy lapsed into an uncontrollable giggle, though she still appeared angry.

"Just go!" Ivy shouted, grinning ear to ear. "Just go and leave me here! I won't be missed, and you'll get exactly what you want!" Karen shook her head and looked around frantically.

"Ivy, I'm not leaving you here," Karen said sharply, remembering her phone discarded in the bag she had left in the break room, and cursing under her breath. "I don't care what you have to say."

"Oh my God!" Ivy cried and turned away from Karen, stalking off across the stage with clumsy steps. "Why the hell do you have to be so God damn perfect? Karen Cartwright, the angel! Miss Cartwright, a saint-"

"Ivy!" Karen cried, her anger and worry getting the best of her, and she followed the older woman until she was close enough to grab her hand. "I'm not joking, you need to get to a hospital! Ivy, listen to me-"

"Stop caring about me!" Ivy screamed, and she whipped around, arms flying uncontrollably, face a mask of furry as she turned to Karen, and the brunette saw a smile spread across the blonde's face as Karen stumbled back. But something was wrong; a terrible, smarting pain suddenly searing through her cheek, and Karen raised a hand to her face as she stumbled back and tripped over Ivy's bag, sending her sprawling into a sitting position in the center of the stage.

And now Ivy's smile was slipping, and the fogginess that had clouded her eyes was clearing, and she let out a terrified shriek as Karen removed her hand from her face. And there was blood; Karen could feel it now, dripping down her cheek and covering her fingers, a deep dark red as it stained her skin. The smell of iron overwhelmed her, nausea rising in her stomach, and she raised her eyes slowly to Ivy's, which were wide with panic.

The blonde screamed again, tears beginning to flow form her eyes again like a never ending tide, and Karen let out an involuntary cry on pain as she gently prodded her face. Very slowly, Ivy switched her gaze from Karen to her shoes, still hanging from her hand, the heel of one now sporting a deep red stain, and threw them from her grasp. They slid across the stage, coming to rest near the desk, and Ivy took several nervous steps toward Karen. Her sobs echoing through the auditorium, Karen could hear the thunder of approaching feet beneath it.

"Karen," She has saying, and the younger woman flinched slightly, involuntarily scooting away from her. "Karen I'm sorry. Oh my God Karen I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- . . . It was an accident, I- . . . Karen I'm so sorry, I-" Ivy continued to rant, standing uncertainly as tear dripped from her cheeks and Karen sat center stage. An overwhelming mix of confusion and uncertainty flashing across the brunette's features, and Ivy looked so desperately terrified as she starred at the younger woman, blood dripping and puddling onto Karen's shirt.

It was then that the other arrived, one great pack as if they traveled only in droves. And there was shouting and yelling, rather belated cries of terror as Jessica and Sue ran to Karen's side, eyes openly wide with panic. And Sam was putting a hand on Ivy's shoulder, whispering to her as she struggled vainly, but her steps were still stumbling as she continued to cry.

"Karen, Karen are you alright?"

"Can you hear us?"

"Karen, Oh my God, someone get a towel-"

"Get Tom and Julia, we need-"

"Karen what happened? Are you alright-"

"I'm fine," Karen said patiently, as though her face was not dripping blood. Everyone looked at her rather skeptically, and people continued to swarm and swivel around her. "Really, everyone, I'm fine," Karen attempted to console them, but no one seemed to notice. In the background, she could still hear Ivy's cries, but the group continued to close in, the air becoming stifling and warm. Karen shook her head again, and curled her legs into her chest. "Stop it, everyone, I'm fine!" No one moved, and Karen stretch out her blood soaked hands. "Please, I just need space-"

"Everyone, move!" And Karen sighed as the crowd parted and Derek was there, leaning over her with his brow furrowed in concern.

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**Kind of a lame ending, but I realized how long this chapter was getting and decided to cut it back for the next chapter. And don't worry! I'll be back much sooner then before, I promise! I really do this time, I'm like not busy at all after today! Please review if you enjoyed the Karen/Ivy confrontation, I hope I didn't make Ivy to aggressive or Karen too weak, but Ivy's not necessarily herself . . . yep! Thanks for read!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm back! Sorry for such a long wait for an update, I got carried away with my new story and babysitting and other excuses and blah-blah-blah. But I'm here again, and ss per usual, a tremendous thanks to everyone who has enjoyed this story, be it adding to favorites, or alerts, or reviewing, or simply reading! Each and every one of you makes me extremely happy, and I thank you for that! So as I mentioned, I started a new story, and it's out now! It's called From the Start, if you are interested, and you may head over there if you choose.**

**Disclaimer: I don't not own any part of Smash, be it the characters, the story, or anything etc. That belongs to NBC.**

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"Hey, hey look at me," Derek said gently, voice soft beneath the swelling chorus of voices, and he reached up a hand to grab her wrist. Karen looked back at him, breathing deeply as he moved her fingers from her cheek, and Derek felt his eyes widen in shock at the sight that greeted him. The cut wasn't necessarily deep, at least to the best of his knowledge, but blood continued to flow unceasingly as he studied it. Very swiftly, he prodded the wound, searching her face for a reaction, and Karen sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth.

He was tempted, more than tempted, to reach out and hold her, to gather her into his arms, but he restrained himself in present company. Despite the rather scattered amount of light that had been shed on their relationship, he felt now was not the most appropriate time to be proving such rumors correct. Quickly, he shared a look with Karen, eyes boring into hers, and she offered him a quick nod of understanding. No matter how madly he wanted to coddle her, he couldn't; right now, he was the Dark Lord, capable of concern but nothing close to caring.

Derek pulled himself upright, settling into a squat beside her and keeping his fingers wrapped around her wrist. He looked up and away from Karen, scanning the room, the chaos of the situation seemed to fully overtake the pair of them from there position on the stage. Surrounded now by a thick crowd of chorus members, everyone seemed to have entered the fray. Though he could hear Julia somewhere through the throng, he could only see Tom and Sam, consoling hand on either of Ivy's shoulders, they comforted her as she sobbed. Apologies gushing from her like a river, their sound was lost in the total confusion of the other cast members, the auditorium filled with unanswered question as they swarmed like bees to pollen.

And of course he had questions of his own, the events leading up to this situation a complete mystery to all of them. Though with a sobbing, apologetic Ivy and a prone, bloody Karen, he did not expect to previous events to have been positive. Of course he wanted to ask, he want the whole story as much as the next person. But he was the director; unlike them, he could keep his composure through both his curiosity and the disorder of his surroundings.

Still, it was helping that despite his orders, a thick ring of onlookers was still maintained, now enclosing the two of them from the outside world. Jessica, Sue, Dennis and Bobby watched he inspect Karen's wound, and he could see tears shining in Jessica's eyes, as the four of them hovered. He knew they wanted to help, he could tell they couldn't stand their helplessness, and the guilt on Karen's face pierced even his outer shell. But she needed space, and he held up a hand, eyes still scanning the surrounding company, keeping their small bubble of space intact.

"Where's Julia?" He bellowed, and the spectators jumped, several of the more curious and less concerned members breaking off and peeling away. To their credit, the rest of the assembled cast members turned their heads, searching the stage area, and Sue was the first to push through the crowd and motion the redheaded writer over. "Eileen!"

Instantly, Julia was squatting beside him and leaning over Karen, her eyes wide with panic but demeanor calm as she took in the wound. Karen, on her part, seemed to be becoming more and more concerned about the damage of her injury, looking to the pair of them as she had no way of observing it. She seemed to be able to see just fine, which was good, but the stale, metallic smell of blood still filled the air as the red liquid continued to spread. He could see it drying against her hand as she continued to attempt to staunch the flow with her fingers.

"Oh, my gosh, Karen, sweetheart," Julia leaned over her, and as if calmed by her less tenacious presence in contrast with Derek's, the rest of the company approached. Karen's two chorus friends fell in at her other side, and Bobby and Dennis remained standing directly behind them, now in front of the surrounding circle.

"Are you alright?" Jessica asked, and Karen nodded convincingly, face not registering any pain. Derek watcher as the four of them took her in with rather aghast faces. "Oh sweetie-"

They continued on in this manner, but he could tell her attention was more directly focused on Derek beside her, his fingers slowly releasing Karen's hand as here peers set in beside her, and he raised himself to his full height. He towered over her, letting her friends take over his role and scanning the crowd again.

"We need a towel," He shouted again, and the already frenzied motion became an even greater flurry of activity. "And water, now!" He roared the words and stomped off across the stage, parting the dancers like water. Taking advantage of the moment, he felt the company pressed in behind him, and he felt another stab of guilt. He could only hope that Julia knew what she was doing, and could handle his momentary absence. He snatched the cloth from a member of the tech crew and grabbed a bottle of water as he made his way back to the group. Tom and Sam continued to work with Ivy, and Derek spared them a glance as he hastened past.

"Ok, everyone back up," Julia was ordered as he neared, her small hands taking one of Karen's hands and waving the onlookers away with the other. Slowly but certainly, everyone but the closest four slowly diminished into the loudly confused crowd leaving Derek to observe Karen's face, pupils dilated and chest falling rapidly with anxiety. Leaning back over towards Karen, Julia's motherly instincts seemed to kick in as she examined the wound. "Oh sweetheart," She breathed, and Karen fidgeted with nervous pain as her fingers grazed the cut. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Karen answered, strongly and confidently, but the other's looked on skeptically.

"Really Iowa," Sue said, eyes still scouring her face. "That seemed unlikely-"

"I'm fine, really," Karen attempted to assure them, but they didn't seem to take her response into account. And Derek was in agreement with them on this point; despite her certainty, it was highly unlikely that Karen was fine. The group's attention diverted upward to him as Derek crouching down beside her, pointedly, handing her the towel and glass of water. She sat forward and accepted them easily. "Really, everyone needs to stop worrying-"

Though Derek continued to listen, he could tell the other onlookers' attention had been diverted as Julia let go of Karen's hand and turned to him "I'm going to call an ambulance," Julia began, and Derek nodded in agreement. "She needs-"

"An ambulance?" Karen asked, uncomprehending, and Derek looked to her with raised eyebrows. Positioning the cloth beneath her eye to staunch the flow, she pushed herself with a strong and upright posture "No really, everyone, I'm fine," She continued, and Derek shook his head, almost smiling to himself. Though he admired it, this kind of strength was going to get her seriously injured. "I don't need an ambulance-"

"I'm making the call," And now Eileen was here, and Derek looked up at her with slight surprise as she leaned over the group with her phone already to her ear. Karen shook her head, disbelieving, and attempted to propel herself to her feet as if to assure them of her stability. But a dozen hands reached out, hovering over her and keeping her seated. She blew out and angry breath, and Derek couldn't help the small smirk that flicked across her lips.

"Karen," Bobby said kindly. "Relax-"

"No, _I _don't need an ambulance. I'm fine," Karen continued on, and Derek raised the bottle of water, which she had discarded beside her. Slowly, steadying her hands as much as she could, Karen sipped the drink and placed it back down. Swallowing, she continued. "No, where's Ivy? She needs-"

"Ivy?" Derek asked, his first words in the mayhem of the past several minutes, and confusion and worry entered his words. Perhaps, he thought, she banged her head . . . "What does Ivy have to do with-?"

"No, Ivy needs and ambulance," Karen persisted, remembering something and reaching down the bag still laying at her feet. Derek watched her skeptically as she searched, but everyone else had lost themselves in distractions. Julia was speaking with Eileen and the rest of the ensemble closing in to question Karen's friends, and no one but Derek seemed to notice as she extracted one of the orange bottles. "She's o-"

"She's fine, Karen," Sue, Julia and Dennis assured her simultaneously, but the brunette persisted. She turned to Derek, eyes wide with worry, and raised the bottle again.

"No, you don't understand!" She said, holding the bottle in front of him, and he assessed it slowly. For a moment, he didn't understand, then realization dawn on him, and he felt his palms begin to sweat. "She's overdosed-" Taking in the scattered contents of Ivy's purse for the first time, Derek saw the other bottles, scattered and empty across the black stage, and he jumped to his feet. Looking around, he could still see Ivy near the wings doubled over herself and crying, bawling as Tom and Sam attempted to get some words out of her, and finally –if only partially- he understood.

"Tom!" He bellowed, and the composer looked up. Everyone's attention diverted from his or her own questions, they turned to Derek curiously and the director cursed under his breath. Turning away from Tom for a moment, he gestured to the rest of the company. "All of you, out! Now!" There was a moment of pure, frozen silence, and the younger men and woman darted for the wings as Derek's gaze turned from a glare to a frightening scowl.

"You four as well," Derek growled, pointing at Dennis and the other three who had remained, and they very slowly and uncertainly left, torn between their friendships and their jobs. Derek did not spare them a second glace as he crossed to stand beside Tom, scooping up several other empty containers as he did.

"We need to get her out of here," Derek said softly, though Ivy seemed entirely removed from the situation, not even seeing him approach. Tom raised and eyebrow, opening his mouth in the beginnings of a snide and skeptical remark, but Derek shook his head firmly. "To a hospital. Tom, she's tak-"

As if to prove his point, Ivy's sobbed grew and chocked, loud gasps filling the space, and Tom's eyes widened as he reached out a hand to steady her. Breaths loud and raspy, tears continued to spill down her cheeks, and her mouth began to foam faintly. From outside, her could just barely hear the sound of approaching sirens. On his part, the composer seemed unable to react, overcome by fear and confusion, and Derek turned to Sam as the younger man supported Ivy's back.

"Take her out to the ambulance," Derek commanded, and Sam nodded. Carefully, and with surprising strength, the dancer pulled the blonde into his arms and lifted her to his chest. She continued to whimper, and Derek continued. "Tell them to pump her stomach, and bring him with you." Gesturing at Tom, Derek turned around to find Karen standing comfortably, Julia's hand on her forearm and blood dripping to the floor as she watched with fervent concern. He approached them again, leaving the composer and dancer to usher Ivy out of the theater and taking Karen's hand for the first time. He pushed a fair behind her ear and studied the cut again.

"Derek!" Sam called across the auditorium, and the director looked up. The younger dancer gestured to door. "The press-"

Derek gestured to Eileen without hesitation, pointing towards to door and motioning her to leave. "Deal with it," He said, rubbing his thumb distractedly across Karen's palm, and she squeezed his hand faintly. "I'll be driving Miss Cartwright to the hospital, Linda would you-"

"I'm coming too," Julia interjected, and Derek turned to glare at her, daring someone to question him. She continued. "I'll drive, you can clean her up-"

"I'm fine," Karen continued to insist, but both Julia and Derek shook theirs heads as they headed for the door.

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"Here, you got that?"

"Yeah."

"Darling, let me take these-"

Julia slid into the front seat, starting the car quickly and pulling away from the theater. Through the rearview, she watched Derek and Karen climbing into the back seat and settling beside each other as the car began to move. Taking the towel and water from her hands, Derek wetted the cloth and took her wrist. Holding her hand tenderly, he gently scrubbed the red stains from her fingers, rubbing the dried liquid from her skin as she held a separate bandage to her cheek.

The silence in the vehicle was soft and somewhat sweet, and Julia watched with a kind of fascination as Derek carefully worked. A faint furrow in his brow, his eyes focused with a subtle attention, he turned his head to smirk at Karen and the young brunette smiled back. Derek rubbed the towel around her wrist before switching hands.

Derek whispered something, too quiet to be heard by Julia, and Karen rolled her eyes and giggled under her breath. Derek took the moment to switch hands, soaking the cloth again and rubbing along her knuckles. Blood still leaking from the wounds, Karen turned the bandage as the stale, metallic scent began to fill the closed space, though faintly. Once finished, the director moved his hands to her face.

One hand on the bandage, the other gently cupping her cheek, Julia watched as he tenderly revealed the gash. Tipping her chin, he rubbed the stains from her neck as he studied the cut. His gaze focused on hers, Julia saw both sets of eyes light up as they took in the other. The faintest of blushes spread across the younger woman's cheeks, and Derek's smile was warm and relaxed. Julia watched, almost in wonder.

"I think you might have slightly underestimated this one Love," Derek quipped, gently wiping along her jaw, and Karen look as indignant as she could with his hand still resting on her cheek. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"I really am fine," Karen was deadpanned, and Derek shrugged, still smirking. "Really, I don't know what you were all so worried about, it really isn't a big deal!"

"Darling," Derek patronized, and Karen sighed. "You were bleeding all over the stage. It was a rather messy affair."

"Well, I'm sorry I got my blood all over your stage," Karen said, trying not to smile, and Derek grinned as he rubbed the towel gently along her cheek. Julia smiled slightly as Derek rubbed his thumb unconsciously across Karen's brow bone.

"It's alright," Derek added, blotting tenderly at the skin beneath the cut and smiling coyly. "I'll just let you clean it up when you get back." Derek laughed openly as Karen knocked his shoulder roughly, looking aghast but smiling all the same.

"You're impossible," Karen attempted to grab the towel from his grasp, but he pulls it away, dropping his hand from her cheek to lace his fingers through hers. Karen attempted to scowl, but he raised her hand and kissed her knuckles lightly.

"And you are wonderful," He said very quietly, blushing fiercely, but seemed to have forgotten Julia's presence as much as Derek had. A swift silence, and Karen stuck out her tongue.

"And you're full of it," She smiled, and Derek shook his head and chuckled as he finished working, rubbing the last stains with gentle fingers. A small thread catching the corner of the gash, Karen seethed and let out the faintest whimper on pain, and Derek's eyes widened in concern. "Ow-"

"Sorry," Derek said, mood swinging instantly, and he squeezed her hand firmly. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"It's fine," Karen said firmly, smiling a smile that did not entirely reach her eyes, but she put a hand on Derek's cheek in consolation. "I'm fine, really." There was a long moment of silence, and Derek handed the younger brunette the water as he laid the cloth down and continued to examine cut. His touches were, if possible, even more tender and apprehensive then before.

"You are okay though, aren't you?" Derek asked quietly, squeezing her hand and pushing hair away from her cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't get to ask you earlier, I just-"

"It's alright," Karen said gently, and she leaned forward to ghost a kiss on his cheek. Julia felt a smile pull at her lips, thought part of her knew it shouldn't, but the softness in Derek's eyes was incomparable. "I understand. It wasn't the time."

"But soon, maybe," Derek said, and Karen shrugged. She smiled a little.

"Maybe soon," There was another long silence, and Julia's gaze lowered as she watched the two study each other. Derek wore a look like none she'd ever seen him wear before, and his gaze was easily paralleled in Karen's eyes. It was an odd dynamic, extremely comfortable, though Julia felt that it shouldn't be, but the feeling in both of their gazes was something she couldn't quiet place yet still put a smile on her lips. Karen shifted in her seat, and her tank top crinkled, cracking under the film on dried blood.

"I'm going to take this off," Karen pulled at the shirt and Derek nodded, nudging and helping the material over her head. Leaving Karen in only her grubby gray sports bra, the writer's gaze flickered to the director's, but Derek's eyes didn't waver. Staying fixed on her face without straying, he folded the shirt beside him and smiled at something the younger woman said. For a moment their chatter was covered by the noise of traffic, and another silence before Derek popped the standing question.

"What happened?" Though the question was phrased as rather general, Karen understood. She looked down at her lap, hands now linked together and fingers tapping nervously, and she shook her and bit her lip.

"It was nothing," She said, and Derek raised an eyebrow. Julia refrained from commenting, though she felt the same skepticism. "It doesn't matter."

"I highly doubt it was nothing," Derek said pointedly, and Karen's hand twitched slightly in agitation, miming tugging at the end of her shirt but finding no fabric. Somewhat more on edge, picked at the nails of her opposite hands. "Did Ivy . . ?"

Karen let out a very soft sigh, and glanced out the window before continuing. Julia could see that she hated this, the guilt open and plain to see in her features, and though Derek obviously registered it he pretended not to see. The pause seem to last forever as the car pulled around another turn. "It was her shoe," Karen said, gesturing at her face. "Her shoe did it, it was an accident-"

"Her shoe?" Derek asked, open mouthed, and Karen nodded slightly. "Bloody hell . . ."

"But she wasn't herself!" Karen continued, dropping the aforementioned fact as though it hadn't been said. She looked at Derek slightly pleadingly, and though her gaze was focused on him Julia knew that the conversation was partially meant for her. "She had overdosed and she was saying things . . ." Karen shook her head. "It wasn't her fault, that part was an accident and she wasn't herself." The young brunette reiterated, and Derek looked slightly confused by her support of the other woman, forehead furrowing into a frown.

"But it was her fault if she was under the influence," Derek threw in, and Karen sent him a sharp look.

"Derek-"

"It's true," The director was deadpanned, and Karen frowned at him. Even their shared frowns weren't normal frowns, Julia noticed; they were something different entirely.

"But you don't have to say it-"

"Someone has to say it," Derek countered again, and Karen crossed her arms over her chest. It was obvious that she knew, that she understood his point of view, but she continued to frown nonetheless. Derek put a hand on her shoulder, tipping her chin upward so their eyes would meet. "What did she say to you?" He asked very quietly, and Karen's eyes glittered as he spoke. She shook her head, biting her lip again and looking away form him.

"Nothing," The Iowan breathed, and shook her head. "She didn't say anything."

"Karen," Derek prodded, his voice soft and gently, and Karen rubbed at her eyes momentarily before continuing.

"She said a lot of things," Karen continued, starring out the window, and Julia rounded another turn. "About the part, about Dev, about you," She swallowed visibly, mouth a straight line, and shook her head. "But it doesn't matter, I'm fine."

"Stop saying that," Derek demanded, but his voice was gentle, and he rubbed his thumb along her jaw. She looked back at him, eyes glistening, and he nodded slowly. "You know you deserve this part," Derek breathed, and Karen nodded, using one hand to wipe at the corner of her eyes. "And you know I really care about you." Karen smiled at that, a full on smile, nodding and pulling at the skin of her cheek. She winced, but only slightly, and she continued to smile as Derek starred at the wound.

"Well, she really did a number on you with this one," Derek clenched his teeth as he wiped a thin trickle of blood, and Karen smirked.

"Is it really that bad?" She asked, somewhat joking and somewhat anxious, and Derek smiled broadly.

"Terrible," He said, his somber, but his eyes smiled at her. "I think you're permanently disfigured."

"Never to recover," Karen jibbed, and Derek chuckled. "Soon, I'll have a hunchback too, and I'll never leave home."

"Good," Derek added, and Julia averted her gaze as the two leaned forward and shared a kiss, and she slowly pulled into the hospital parking lot.

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The emergency room was just as exciting as one might imagine; white washed walls, uncomfortable plastic seating, the general scent and feel of injury and antiseptic hanging over them like a cloud. With the lack of crowd mid-morning on a Tuesday and the category of head injury that she was placed in, the nurse assured Karen it would be not time at all before they could see her. The three of them sat side by side in the corner of the room, Karen flipping through an old magazine as the other two studied their surroundings. Derek gripped the younger woman's hand firmly, but Julia could see they tried to conceal it between the chairs.

And indeed, they waited for barely half an hour before their names were called, and a thin, pale young man escorted them back to a brightly painted red room. "There's so scrubs you can put on," He spoke nervously to Karen as they entered. "If you want."

"Thank you," She said politely, moving across the room to hop up on cushioned cot. The thin paper crinkled faintly beneath her, and her crossed her legs and laid her hands in her lap politely. The nurse, however, hadn't moved from the doorway as Julia moved to take the seat across from the brunette and Derek lounged beside her, and all four of them looked at him with faint amusement. He swallowed visibly and ran a hand uncomfortably through his hair.

"Yes?" Derek questioned after a moment, and the young man stuck the clipboard he was holding under his arm. "Do you want something?"

"Derek," Karen protested quietly, but the young nurse shook his head.

"Sorry," He said plaintively. "There can only be two people in a room. One escort . . ." He looked back and forth between Julia and Derek, foot tapping nervously and brow furrowed, and the writer and director evaluated each other for a moment. "I'm sorry they didn't tell you at the desk-"

"It's alright," Julia said kindly, and she stood up. "I'll wait in the lobby, you two-"

"No," Karen said gently, and the two of them turned to stare at her in surprise. She was looking at Derek, her expression serious, and the older man quirked an eyebrow. "No, Julia, stay. Derek can go."

For a moment, the director looked almost hurt, and he squeezed Karen's hand tenderly as she nodded towards him. "Darling-" He began uncertainly, but she shook her head.

"No," She continued. "Derek, you need to get back to rehearsal, Linda's-"

"Karen, Love," Be stepped in from of her, a head taller then her sitting form, and took her other hand. "I don't care about rehearsal, I'm not worried about the show. I'm worried about you-"

"And I'm going to be fine," Karen said with a faint smile, lacing her fingers through his, and he grimaced. "The rest of the ensemble needs you as much as I do right now. And Julia knows what she's doing." She peaked her head around his body to smile at the older redhead, and Julia grinned back.

"You'll be fine?" Derek asked, understand her point but still unwilling to leave.

"I promise you I'll be perfectly fine," She said, smiling at him, and he sighed only slightly. Stretching up, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek, and Derek stroked his fingers along the skin of her hands.

"You promise." He stated, the words almost and question, and Karen laughed under her breath.

"I _promise_," She repeated, sounding younger and more childish then she had in quite some time, and Derek forced a smile. "Now go. I'll see you later."

And he left, alibi reluctantly, and Julia and Karen were left alone in the small red room. Karen kicked her legs back and forth, humming to herself and letting them swing gently above the floor, and Julia watched her as the silence stretched on. Karen wore a comfortable smile, and Julia opened her mouth to speak.

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**Okay, so kind of a filler chapter, my apologies, and sorry again about the super duper late update. I was writing it yesterday, and totally got caught up with all the Olympic whatnot. It really is exciting stuff; I'd forgot how much fun it was! Please review if you enjoyed it, I'm going to be busy this week but I'll really try to get a new and more exciting chapter up soon. Thanks for putting up with my filler until then!**


	16. Chapter 16

**So you can hate me. **

**Actually please do hate me. Or, well, please don't hate me, but it's completely understandable if you do. I know it's been more than a month since my last update . . . It makes me cringe just thinking about how long I put this off for. And I'm sorry! I'm so, so, so, so sorry! Ugh . . . sorry.**

**Alright, moving forward, here is chapter sixteen. I think one of the reasons I didn't get around to writing this is because I had a lot of ideas for where I waned it to go, and I couldn't pick one to settle on. In any case, I did, and it's here now, so there you have it. What with school and all that wonderful stuff, I've just gotten really busy in the last couple of weeks, and haven't really made time to write. But I am making a pact with myself to try –try being the operative word here- to update at least once a week, which means I can spend my weekends writing and not worry about the rest of the week.**

**I know, it's not as often as I would want to either, but oh well. Structure is good and what not. I've never really had a set schedule before, just because I feel like it adds pressure, but it might be good. I don't know. I usually feel like I can work well under pressure, but there's a line between putting out bad work on time and good work over a long period of time. But that's how you end up with long breaks, and not much good work to show for it. Ah well! C'est la vie. Here we go.**

**Really long, rambling intros end here. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. (See? I made that one short to compensate for the long intro.)**

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"So," Julia said, and Karen turned her attention from surveying the small room, and fixed it on Julia. Self consciously, she raised a hand and covered the scar, still unattended to on her cheek. "You and Derek."

It wasn't a question; it was obvious to Julia and obvious to Karen that Julia knew, but the older woman found no words to really continue her thought. For a long moment, the silence stretched on, and Karen's cheeks flushed deeper and deeper shades of red.

"I thought he'd told you," Karen said with a nervous, uncertain smile. "He mentioned that he-"

"No, he did." Julia smiled kindly, and Karen wrapped her fingers around the edge of the cushioned cot. "You weren't being untoward, Karen. Don't worry."

The younger woman smiled, kicking her feet back and forth so they swung gently, and sent Julia a grateful look. "Thank you."

The silence stretched on, less comfortable than both of them would have liked, and Karen's focus quickly slipped from her face and trailed around the room. Julia, however, studied Karen, taking in her profile and the faint flush on her cheeks, and she let out a long, deep breath.

"Karen," Julia said quietly, and the younger woman nodded. "Derek . . ." Julia trailed off, brow furrowed and hands clasped in her lap. "He's . . ."

"I know what you're going to say," Karen said, her tone slightly bitter, but Julia could tell it wasn't directed at her. "That Derek is no good for me, that he's using me, that I need to break it off now-"

"I'm not saying any of those things," Julia offered gently, and Karen flushed still brighter. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel that way, or that you shouldn't disregard those comments when they're made."

Karen didn't react. Instead, she bit her lip, looking past Julia and into the distance, and the writer watched the younger woman struggle. And she didn't want that; she didn't want Karen to have to be making decisions like that, especially not right now, so early in her life. She had already heard about the proposal debacle, and now this . . . Julia sighed. She wanted to tell Karen she was in over her head, but yet she couldn't be one hundred percent sure in her sense of judgment. Something about Karen, something about she and the director, made it difficult for Julia to entirely despise the situation. Something about the pair of them was different then Rebecca, different then Ivy, and different from Derek himself. So she held her tongue.

Because perhaps it was true; perhaps Derek cared about Karen in a way he never had before. It seemed plausible, at least to an extent, that he truly cared about someone else, and that this was a truly selfless act. Maybe Tom wasn't correct in saying it was impossible for him to care about another human being, and there was the slightest possibility that that person could be Karen. The way he looked at her . . . that had said it time and time again, but it was so far gone from the gaze he bestowed on anyone else that Julia couldn't help but smile just a little bit. It was a happy smile, and proud smile, and confident smile-

It was the smile, Julia faltered, that he wore as he watched his productions come to life. The smile that he wore throughout a particularly well done performance, the kind of look he only reserved to show his true inner happiness. The kind of loving smile that he reserved only for himself, when he was proud of his work and others, and he knew the audience was just as proud of them. It was a smile, Julia's mouth dropped into a frown, that he reserved for the show, and she couldn't help but feel now that this look had nothing to do with Karen.

Ha had he looked at her that way before she became the star? Sure, but he had been gunning for her since the very beginning. It was only Tom's pestering, and her own lenience, that brought Ivy on as the original lead. As Eileen had said, she was very talented and had done some terrific work, but if they were honest with themselves she had not been the girl for the part. Maybe, eventually, she would be, but with the position they were in now, she was far too like Marilyn than she should be.

And yet, Derek had taken to her, but that was his way. They all knew he had slept with her, Julia wasn't an idiot, but their were parts of the Derek Wills contract that couldn't be negotiated. And yet, with the exception of Tom, they had trusted –or at least put up with- his lack-of judgment, and let him direct to the best of his abilities. But with that fiasco came nothing but setbacks, and with Rebecca nothing but unwarranted press, and by now Derek's sidelong pleasures had run their course. Karen was a lovely young woman and a spectacular Marilyn, and despite their having to except Derek's smug satisfaction at having chosen her, they did not have to put up with him abusing his power a third time. Maybe he had chosen her as his lead for all the right reasons or all the wrong ones, but somewhere in the middle was not acceptable. Julia knew how Derek worked with his stars, and he had more tricks up his sleeve than his usual tactic. Julia knew that for a fact.

"I just want to make sure . . ." Julia said after a long moment of thought, and Karen devoted her full attention. Julia swallowed once, and attempted yet again to find the right words. "He's not pressuring you into this, in any way?"

Karen looked slightly startled, then almost abashed, and Julia herself felt slightly embarrassed at having to ask. But the question wasn't unwarranted, and she couldn't let it go unasked.

"No," Karen said with a small, nervous smile, and starred down at her bare feet. She shook her head. "No, really it's nothing like that. There's nothing . . ." Karen continue to smile slightly uncomfortably, and Julia did her best to return her own.

"But he's not doing anything to make you-" Julia continued, stopping when the words wouldn't come. "He's not abusing any kind of power, I mean as director-"

"No, no definitely not," Karen assured her, cheeks burning red, and Julia looks as kind and apologetic as she could. "I mean, there was a time during the auditions, before the callbacks, but-" She shook her head again, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "But he's really not like that, not anymore. If anything, he's that opposite."

"Opposite?" Julia couldn't help but ask, and she kept her voice as soft as she possibly could. Karen smiled, fingers toying loosely with the blood-caked shirt in her lap, and she looked away from the older woman.

"Yeah," Karen offered, obviously unsure about whether to continue, and Julia waited another long moment before Karen spoke. "It was the other night, and I was really drunk-" She stopped, looked slightly flustered, and met Julia's gaze fleetingly. "Of my own choosing, of course." Julia smiled just slightly at Karen's nervous energy, and nodded once. "And I came back to his apartment with him, and we were gonna . . . you know . . ." Karen's blush bloomed across her face, spreading down her neck and flaming across her ears, and Julia couldn't help but smile. Sometimes, she forgot how truly young Karen was. "But then he said no," Karen continued. "He said he wouldn't do it, that he couldn't live with himself if he took advantage of me, in any way."

"Did he," Julia said quietly, unsure how else to respond, and Karen nodded, looking off into the corner of the room and avoiding her gaze. Julia sat back only slightly in her chair, hesitant on whether or not to react, and Karen bit her lip.

"So, we aren't sleeping together," Karen interjected suddenly, and Julia nodded once. She whispered the words again, as if saying them twice might convince the writer even more. "We aren't sleeping together."

"I know," Julia said, and she did know, despite all her misgivings. This didn't mean Derek was off the hook, but with his track record, this might be something tantamount to a miracle. Or maybe he just knew that sleeping with Karen wouldn't do the right things for her as his lead. "I can see that. I think he cares about you in a different way."

Karen nodded, but her eyes were sad as she took in Julia's words. "But not in the way that I think he cares about me." Karen stated, eyes locked on Julia, and the redhead looked back at her.

"Karen," Julia started, and the younger woman shifted on the cot. "Sweetheart, Derek is the wrong decision made for all the right reasons, and I don't want you getting hurt because of that."

"But it's not like that," Karen said, and Julia could here the remnants of tears in her chest. "We aren't together, not in that way, and the way he acts outside of the show-" She shook her head and looked away again, hiding her face in her hair.

"I know," Julia whispered. "I understand. He can be very different, but it's nye-on impossible to tell the acting from the truth. Karen, he's good at what he does."

"I thought you might understand," Karen said, her words painful, and Julia felt a lump forming in her throat.

"I do understand," She continued, "I do see that he treats you differently, and I hate to have to say this, but sweetheart," Julia leaned forward slightly, brow furrowed in a permanently sad frown. "I don't know what his motives are for this behavior."

"I don't know," Karen said, still refusing to look at her, and clenched and unclenched her fists nervously. "But it isn't sex, like most of them think." She shivered slightly, and turned to face the older woman. "The looks on their faces when they found out, was just so . . . scolding, and demeaning-" Karen bit her lip, and took a deep breath. "All they can think is that Derek's bedded his third Marilyn. They look at me like I'm a child, like I'm unclean-"

"Karen, they don't mean to," Julia stopped her, seeing Karen's dark eyes beginning to shine under the harsh fluorescent light. "And that has nothing to do with a reflection on you character. It's simply Derek-"

"Derek didn't do anything wrong," Karen defended, sitting up a little straighter. "If they would just listen-"

"But he's done things wrong before Karen," Julia said softly, fondly. "And none of us want him to make those decisions again, at your expense."

The silence stretched on, and thought Julia felt confident in her words, she also felt slightly ill. Maybe dissuading was necessary for her emotional safety, but she couldn't' bare to be punching holes into something that wasn't yet broken. Because she still felt, somewhere in the back of her mind, that inkling that this latest escapade held something different, for both Karen and Derek.

Julia knew the trials and tribulations that true emotion could go though; she understood them, down to the very dark core of all the terrible things she had done. She knew that deep infatuation could often be mistaken for something else, and lead t many, many poor decisions made, but she also knew that endearment could come in all different shapes, sizes and temperaments. So she couldn't discourage Karen, not entirely, because she wasn't sure if she herself could be deterred. Something told her this was different, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to listen.

"But," Julia continued, and Karen blinked slowly. "That doesn't mean that any of us are warranted or justified."

"I think," Karen started, then stopped, looking thoughtful and slightly remorseful as she continued. "I think you underestimate him."

"I know I do," Julia said, surprising the younger woman, and Karen nodded slowly. "I know we all do, but in the past he hasn't given any of us much reason to believe in his moral standards."

"I didn't either," Karen said quietly, nodded again. "Not at the beginning. But he gave me reason to change my mind. Somehow, he's not the same person that he used to be."

"And you think it's because of you," Julia said, without patronizing, acknowledging the open ended-ness of her statement, and Karen flushed again.

"I think it's an amalgam of a lot of different things," Karen said quietly, not meeting her gaze for the umpteenth time. "But I'd like to think that I help him, and he helps me."

"I'd like to think so too," Julia said, and Karen smiled only slightly as the door was pushed open and the doctor entered.

Two hours and four stitches later, Julia was pulling up to the hotel with Karen in the seat beside her. Wound looking much more presentable than before, Julia had conceded to drop Karen off back at the hotel and head her advice to return to the rehearsal.

"They need you," Karen prompted at Julia's protests. "As much as –if not more than- Derek. Please, go. I'll be fine."

And Julia had agreed, unenthusiastically, and they now sat in the parked car, Karen studying her face in the mirror. Julia looked thoughtfully out the window, and Karen smiled only slightly at the gash.

"You know, this really isn't that bad," Karen said, and Julia grinned at her, laughing softly. Karen looked surprised. "Really, it isn't."

"It could have been a whole lot better," Julia said, amazed by Karen's optimism, and the younger woman shrugged.

"True," She offered, poking at it gently. "But with a little make-up, it'll be good as new. You won't even be able to see it on stage-"

"No," Julia interjected, unyielding, and Karen almost jumped. "No Karen, that is out of the question."

"I'm fine!" Karen protested yet again, and turned to face her. "Julia, it's just a cut, he don't have to stop production."

"You will not be going on tonight, no matter what make-up can do to your face," Julia insisted maternally, and shook her head as she pulled out her phone. "I am calling Eileen right now, I'm sure she's already canceled the performance-"

"She hasn't," Karen almost bubbled, and Julia glanced at her sidelong. "I love Eileen, and she would never admit to not having done it, but she hasn't."

"Well then," Julia said, dialing. "I'll make her-"

"Don't," Karen said, and Julia stopped herself with great difficulty. "Please. I'm perfectly fine, and I want to do it," Julia shook her head, but Karen looked on pleadingly. "Please Julia."

"Promise me you'll go up to your room and take a nap or something first," Julia relented, and Karen unbuckled her seatbelt. "You can't let us run you ragged, understood?"

"Of course," Karen smiled, pushing open the car door and stepping out onto the sidewalk. For a brief moment she stood there, back to the writer, before turning around to face her. Her brow creased in thought, she bit her lip as she leaned forward only slightly so her head was level with the car.

"Julia," Karen began, and the older woman nodded slowly. Karen looked pensive, her mind some place else before continuing. "I know you think I'm making the wrong decision, I know everyone thinks that," Julia knew what she was referring to, and made no comment as the young brunette continued. "But Derek really can be rather . . ." She paused, searching for the right word, then shrugged. "Well, sweet, I guess."

Julia nodded again, but Karen seemed not to see her. "I know that seems almost impossible, but it's true."

"Not _impossible_," Julia beamed, and Karen grinned at her before settling into a preoccupied frown.

"A lot of what Derek puts out there is what he thinks other people want to see," Karen said, gaze distant. "But there's a lot more underneath that then he's ever given credit for. He puts out what people want to see, but it's hard to say what's really him, and not someone he's pretending to be." The actress let out a deep breath, as if the statement took a great weight off her shoulders, and smiled as her gaze fixed on Julia. "I really hope that makes even an ounce of sense, because there's much more to him than that."

Karen backed away from the car, shutting the door and making her way into the lobby, and Julia sat, car still running in it's spot, thinking for quite some time. Karen was young, but sometimes she forgot how old she really was.

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"I think she's good for you," Derek turned, ripping his gaze from the stage, where they had remained for the past several minutes now. With the return of Karen, several hours after he departed from the hospital, the mood of rehearsal had changed significantly. There was still that worry, that little Ivy clinging to the back of their thoughts, and yet they'd heard only good news from Sam as the hours passed. He had been stressed, trying to work in new positions to compensate for their missing chorus member, but the blocking seemed fine and the dancers seemed ready and Karen was back. Thank God she was back, and she was all right.

She stood on the stage, light blazing down as they tested the different settings, and laughed and talked with a huddle of ensemble members as they anxiously studied her face. To far away to hear their words, he could sense her consoling mannerism and their concern even from across the theater, and had been lost in his own world. Even when she wasn't acting, Karen Cartwright seemed to occupy every inch of that stage an beyond, and the sight was so breathtaking that he couldn't seem to pull his attention away. At least, until now.

"What?" He asked, attention diverted as he turned to see Julia standing beside him, and he shook the cobwebs from his head. "Sorry, I didn't-"

"Karen," Julia offered, gesturing towards the stage, and he darted his eye eyes across the theater to see her eyes sparkling, head thrown back in a tinkling laugh. "I think she's good for you."

"I don't know what you-"Derek said, still not totally focused on her words, and blinked several times.

"Come on Derek," Julia said, rolling her eyes and gesturing towards Karen. "You and Karen are together, we know. You _told _us."

"I know," Derek said, shaking his head. "I'm just used to being . . . evasive." Julia laughed, and both of them turned to face the stage. For a long moment both of them watched the activity of the ensemble, then Julia smiled just slightly.

"It's alright, you know," Derek looked at her, but she didn't meet his gaze. "Though she does deserve more than you."

"I'm well aware," Derek said quietly, eyebrows lowering, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think anyone really deserves her."

Julia's smile warmed, finally reaching her eyes, and she flashed a glance at Derek. "Maybe you're right." For another long moment, they were silent, then Julia smirked. "I don't know how good you are for her, but I think she's good for you," Derek didn't react. "She's changed you, Derek, and I think that's good. I think you deserve her."

"I can't do that," Derek said, frowning, and he clenched him fists. "I can't let her settle for me. It's selfish and immoral and unfair-"

"And you deserve it," Julia said, turning to him fully and sending him and grave stare. Derek shifted uncomfortably, a very un-Derek like thing to do, and Julia raised an eyebrow. "Come on Derek, when has the last time you did something good for yourself. And I don't mean for the show. For you," Derek was speechless, unsure of where this unwarranted kindness was coming, and Julia continued. "You're not nearly the narcissist you make yourself out to be."

"I . . ." Derek said, mouth open, and Julia waited. "I think you overestimate me."

"No," She said firmly. "I don't." For a moment they stood, contemplating one another, then Julia smiled. "And I don't think she will be that torn up if you just go for it."

"So you support me in this?" Derek asked, incredulous, almost not understanding, and Julia nodded.

"Sure, you could say that," She smiled, and turned Derek towards the stage. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do, but he took off towards the stage with slow steps. As he ascended onto the stage, the ensemble dispersed, spreading out into the aisles and the wings. He approached her, slowly, waiting for the crowd to part, and when he caught her eyes he saw them light up. Smile on her face, she watched as he politely scattered the clique and came to stand before her. Taking her chin and tilting her head up slightly, he studied the wound with a calculating expression.

"How are you darling?" He asked, and her eyes moved across his face.

"Fine," She breathed. "I'm not a pins and needles kind of person, but it was alright."

"You should have let me stay," Derek implored, though his voice held no real conviction, and she brushed it off.

"Nonsense," Derek smirked at her tone, which earned him a chuckle. "You had things to do. And I didn't exactly look my most attractive."

"I had a lot of things to do that didn't nearly mean as much to me as you do," He said quietly, and she blushed. "And you're always attractive-"

"And blah-di-blah-di-blah," Karen interrupted, sticking out her tongue and wrapping a hand around his wrist, his fingers still hovering over her cheek. "You need to stop showering me with compliments; yours make all of mine seen inadequate."

"Never," Derek responded, though his lips were pulled into a full smile, and he moved both hands to cup her cheeks. For a moment her eyes flickered, but her smile still stayed. She could see the look in his eyes, and nodded slowly.

"Derek," She said, voice shaking only slightly, and she swallowed. "Derek, are you sure about this."

"Completely," He nodded, and his head turned slightly to scan the ensemble members in the aisles. "I don't want to hide anymore Karen; and if you don't either, then I don't think we should have to."

"Ok," She whispered, and though her voice was not strong, her eyes sparkled.

"Ok," He said, and leaned forward to place a delicate kiss on her cheek.

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**Hurray for new updates! So, now that I'm finishing this up, I'm realizing that the story is going to come to a close fairly soon . . . but never fear! I have many, many ideas for the future. Thanks so much for reading, if you enjoyed it enough and feel so inclined, please leave a review, and stay in touch for more updates!**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm back!**

**And I'm sorry.**

**So, this and the next chapter will finish up this story! But never fear, it will only complete this **_**branch**_** of the Karen/Derek story. There will be more to come, just not until after everything's settled down. I'm at a bit of a lull right now, which will probably last a good two or three days, and then everything will pick back up again! So woohoo! **

**Disclaimer: I still do not own Smash!**

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Derek set the two steaming mugs down on the hotel coffee table, smiling softly as Karen looked up from her book. Tucking her knees up to her chest, the young woman made room for him on the stiff hotel-room couch before extending her leg back over his lap. Her socks brushed against his tea as he sipped it, and she gave a half-hearted smile in response to his.

It didn't surprise Derek that Karen wasn't her usual, spritely self. Sure, she was polite and happy, but the last week had been anything but easy for the pair of them, and considerably more difficult for her than for him. In any case, he didn't expect her to return to her normal self, what with the Ivy incident and it's aftermath.

Their shared kiss on the stage had not gone unnoticed by the present cast members, and as a result, gossip had instantly spread like wildfire. In her closer friends, it had been more reserved; he and Karen were together, as they had obviously known this whole time, and the bets could rage on as to who had asked who, was she really living with him, and so on and so forth. That, at least, seemed to please Karen, if mildly. At least her friends, her true, close friends, had accepted their relationship for what it was, and though they judged him, they reserved from coddling and counseling her.

It was the talk of the others, however, the lesser known chorus members and possible the less kind for it. Those were the ones that set even his teeth on edge when he caught wind of them, and the ones he could tell pierced Karen far more deeply. They said that she and Derek had been together this whole time, that since the audition they'd been going behind Ivy's back and that was what Karen and Ivy had argued about, that was what had driven Ivy to near suicide. They said that Karen had done it purposefully, that she'd been with Derek because she knew Ivy would crack, and that she could take the part when she was gone.

To anyone who knew Karen, to even the rumor-spreaders themselves, Derek knew that these accusations couldn't hold an ounce of truth. Firstly, the facts were incorrect, and secondly, if anyone thought Karen Cartwright was capable of that kind of manipulation, they would have to have never seen her before in their lives, let alone spoken to her. But, despite his urging, she had refused to pursue any practice of clearing her name with these members. She would shake her head when he mentioned it, and turn away when she heard such accusations, but Derek could see the hurt in her eyes though she tried to dull it. And it terrified him.

He set down his mug, and picked up the Bombshell script, several fresh pages having been sent his way by Julia. Gently, he rubbed his thumb along the bottom of Karen's foot as she read, and he heard a faint sigh as she blinked slowly. Smirking, he rubbed the knuckles of her toes, dancing his fingers along her foot, and she jerked back before smiling faintly.

"Stop it," She murmured, letting out a breathy laugh and swatting his hand away with her opposite foot, and Derek smiled before returning to his work, though his face quietly slipped into a petulant frown.

Because he knew what she was doing. She was Karen, and though she kept herself more reserved than ever, he could read her like a book. She was angry, and she was guilty for her anger, so she reverted into herself and ignored the outside world. She curled up on the couch and read and worked for hours, she talked to no one, she barely ate, because she was terrified of her anger. If he knew anything about Karen, he knew that she couldn't hate anyone, almost in the same way that it was nye-on impossible to hate her. She couldn't bare the fact that Ivy's action's had made her angry, had made her cold and harsh to the older woman, and had – so she believed – driven Ivy to the point she had fallen.

And so she was guilty. Wrongfully guilty – she had done nothing to Ivy but, in all honestly, treated her more kindly than any other woman in her position would have – but still guilty none the less. And because of that, she wouldn't tell them the truth about what happened, she wouldn't even tell him, because she wouldn't discredit Ivy's name. She wouldn't do that to her, she couldn't do that to her, because if she told them what had truly happened, it would lift her pedestal even higher than it had been before it had sunk. And for all the benefits an overbearing conscience could grant you, this was most definitely not one of them.

And Derek was scared. Scared because he knew exactly how she felt, scared because he knew how scared she was, scared because she wouldn't tell him and scared because he was loosing her. He could see it in her eyes, when she looked at him, and feel it when she kissed her in the mornings. There was love, or caring, or passion or whatever it was they had, but there was also guilt, and an overwhelming sense of pain and sadness that Derek couldn't quite comprehend. To the best of his ability, he assumed that Karen felt shameful of their relationship; guilty when they kissed, stricken when they touched, even by the slightest amount. And even though she continued in the same manner as they had before, he could tell she wasn't the same, that she could see what she thought their relationship had done, and all she could feel anymore was shame in it.

And they hadn't slept together yet. There was that. In four months, there had been nothing, and where Derek thought their relationship had been growing, he could tell now that it was slowly slipping away. And he didn't want to loose her. He could sacrifice sex, he could sacrifice everything, but he wouldn't loose her again, not when he knew that the reason for the withdraw of her feelings wasn't right. Maybe he-

Abruptly, Karen snapped her book shut, setting it aside, sitting up straight and staring at him expectantly. Startled, Derek lowered his script and appraised her.

"I want to go visit Ivy."

Now more than slightly surprised, Derek took a deep breath, set down his work and turned to face her. She pulled her knees up to her chest and starred at him, waiting.

"You do?" It was a question, but something in Derek's tone was more a stating than questioning, searching for verification.

"Yes," Karen replied, voice almost monotone. "I do."

"You don't have to do that," Derek said, more softly than his previous words, and Karen wrapped her arms around her legs. "No one will think any less of you if you don't go."

"They will," Karen blinked slowly, "They would never say it, but they would. And some of them might think less of me if I do go."

Silence. Derek didn't respond, and Karen breathed deeply.

"But I should go. No-" Karen shook her head, nearly interrupting herself and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "No, I want to go."

"I won't think any less of you if you don't go." Derek said kindly, if decisively, and Karen truly met his eyes for the first time. She smiled then, and nodded once.

"I know." Another long period of silence, and Karen plucked at the bottom of her sweatshirt, watching her fingers and avoiding his gaze.

"When do you want to go?" She looked back up at him, and nodded, lips set in a determined sort of line, and she pushed a piece of hair away from he face.

"Now." Derek attempted, unsuccessfully, to hide his shock.

"Right now?" Karen raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Yes, right now." Karen swung her legs over the edge and stood up, already making for the door. "Before I decided that this is a terrible idea."

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The taxi ride to the hospital was twenty-two minutes, all of them silent. Karen stared out the window for the majority of it, watching the Los Angeles scenery flick by, and Derek sat uncomfortable beside her on the small center seat. The waiting room was much the same; stiff plastic chairs, and an eerie kind of silence that seemed to hang over them like a fog. And when Karen went back, Derek stayed where he was, knowing that while Karen's presence my be helpful to Ivy, his would only be detrimental.

It was nearly a full hour before Karen returned, walking slowly through the doorway with her jacket hanging limply from her fingers. Without a word, Derek stood and crossed the room, and Karen wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her face rather forcefully into his neck, and he could feel her shaky breaths against his bare skin. Her hands trembled only slightly, but they steadied after a moment. Derek breathed deeply into her hair, and rubbed his fingers delicately across her back.

Karen sighed heavily and let out one breathy, chocked sob.

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"Are you alright?" Karen picked at her salad, watching her fork move and nodding once.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She looked sideways, away from him, and starred out the window of the small café. The lights in the city had begun to darken, and the restaurant offered a warm, welcoming glow. Yet despite this, Karen's eyes sill remained dead, her gaze distant.

Picking up a piece of his pasta, he proffered it to her, as he had last time they'd frequented this establishment. Karen had taken the bite, laughed and giggled, pulled his plate towards her and shared his food as they talked-

"Want some, love?" Derek smiled, and Karen's eyes darted to him quickly.

"No," She smiled gratefully and lowered her gaze to her food, taking an unenthusiastic bite. Another long silence, another fucking long silence, and Derek set down his fork and knife. Resting his elbows on the table, he interlaced his fingers and rested his chin, watching her intently. Sensing the sudden change, Karen looked up at him mid-bite and continued chewing. It seemed ages before she finally swallowed and starred at him, slightly confused.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Karen set down her silverware and folded her napkin in her lap. If she wasn't as Karen Cartwright-esque as she was, Derek knew she would have rolled her eyes.

"Are you honestly asking me that?" Derek looked a bit confused, if not mildly offended, and Karen raised an eyebrow at him. "You really couldn't be more generic."

"Sorry," Derek mumbled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, but not taking his eyes off hers. "I'm not really good at these 'feelings' things."

"'These feelings things'," Karen quoted, eyebrows flying up. Derek raised his eyebrows too, and now Karen did roll her eyes. "God, you're such a prat."

"Woah," Derek said, brow furrowed, and Karen picked angrily at the corner of her napkin. "Lay off. I just want to know if you're alright."

"Do you think I'm alright?" Karen leaned forward and mimicked his previous position, hands laced beneath her chin, and nearly glowered at him.

"No," Derek responded bluntly, and Karen almost smirked. "I just-"

"Your powers of deduction amaze me," Karen commented dryly, and Derek fumed faintly. Taking a deep breath he continued, ignoring the disconcerting fire flaring in the younger woman's eyes.

"I just want to talk to you," He said slowly, and he saw a flicker of reproach flash across her face. It didn't last long.

"Alright, fine," Karen nodded, and pursed her lips. "I'm here, I've been here," Folding her arms again she sat up straight, letting her napkin fall to the table and staring directly into his eyes. Derek starred back, unblinking. "Talk to me."

"Karen," He addressed her as though that hadn't spent to last 24 hours in each other's company. "Hello, how are you? How are you doing?"

"How do you think I'm doing," Karen snapped back, and Derek took a deep breath. Some women never ceased to amaze and befuddle him, and Karen was no exception.

"I do not think that you're doing well," He reiterated rather formally, and Karen blinked at him slowly. "And I want you to tell me what happened-"

"Okay, you want to know, fine," Derek almost jumped at Karen's sudden response, and the young actress continued in a kind of mutter growl. "I'll tell you. Ivy cried. She cried a lot, and she told me she was sorry more times than I could count, and she told me that I deserve you because you never cared about her."

And Karen leapt to her feet, turning swiftly and whipping her coat from the back of her chair before storming out of the small establishment. Dazed, bewildered, and incredibly confused, Derek left a generous sum on the table before dashing after her and into the cold night air.

"Bloody hell Karen, wait!" But Karen didn't listen, marching off down the street, breath fogging in the frigid air. Derek took off, sprinting down the block until he overtook her and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. In the harsh light of the streetlamps, Derek could see the tears running down her cheeks, thick and fast, and it broke his heart. "Karen-"

"Stop it," Karen wiped her eyes, looking down at the sidewalk, and he dropped his hand down to her upper arm, his grip gentle. "Just leave me alone-"

"No," Derek shook his head. "No, Karen I'm not going to let you just disappear again."

"Again?" Karen sniffed, and it was so adorable that Derek almost couldn't fight the urge to draw her into his arms. But he settled for rubbing his thumb along her tricep.

"All you've done these past few days is run away," Derek clarified, and Karen wiped the corner of her eye. "I'm not going to let you run away-"

"I just want to go home," Karen replied, practically ignoring his words, and Derek frowned. "Please, drop it-"

"I'm not going to drop it," Derek interrupter, voice raising unintentionally. "Not when you haven't shown this much emotion about anything for the past week." Karen didn't say anything to this, simply starred at their feet, and as if on cue, it began to drizzle. "Please tell me what wrong. What's really wrong."

"That's just it though," Karen words were slightly chocked, and she swallowed once before continuing. "I've told you, and I've told myself over and over again that it's ridiculous, but for some reason I just can't-" She stopped, took a deep breath, and looked up at him. "It's just that I'm letting the things Ivy said get to me, and I shouldn't, I know I shouldn't, I…" Another shaky, stuttering breath, and Derek dropped his hand to interlace her fingers.

"You can't let what she said hurt you, she didn't mean it," Derek said soothingly, but Karen looked no more pacified than before. "You deserve this part, you're wonderful and talented, and Ivy will succeed, just not at this," Karen didn't meet his eyes. "And she apologized for it, didn't she?"

"She did," Karen said, and Derek nodded his approval. But Karen looked up at him, eyes still shining with tears. "But she didn't – she wouldn't listen to what was really bothering me."

Derek felt more confused than ever, stunned and unsure of what she was referring to, and he could see Karen blushing, ashamed and embarrassed, in the faint light. "Well then," Derek cleared his throat. "What is it?"

"I'm just afraid," Karen stopped, then began again. "I'm just afraid of what she said. That you never cared about her." Derek furrowed his brow.

"You're angry because you're worried that I didn't care about Ivy?" Derek recited, utterly bewildered, and Karen simply nodded.

"Yes," She seemed a tad relieved, though still unhappy, a more tears continued to flow. "I just, I just can't think about this relationship, about us, without thinking of what I'm taking away from Ivy."

"I . . ." Derek said, speechless, and simply waited as Karen continued doggedly.

"All she could think about was how you never wanted her," Karen said, then looked slightly puzzled. "No, well, you wanted her, but you never cared about her. All she could say was that you just played with her and Rebecca, you toyed with them, while you waited for Dev and I to fall apart. That was all she said Derek, other then apologizing. That was all she seemed to understand."

"I . . . I cared about her," Derek said, his mouth dry. "Of course I cared-"

"But you were just waiting," Karen pressed, and Derek retracted his hand, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. "You were waiting, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Derek said, maybe realizing for the first time himself, but suddenly knowing that it was true. Of course he had been waiting for Karen; bloody hell, he felt like he'd been waiting all his life. "Yes, I was waiting for you. But that doesn't mean I cared about her any less. That doesn't mean you should feel guilty now."

"But you did care about her less," Karen stated, and Derek couldn't come up with a response. "And I do feel guilty." She really began to cry, trying to wipe the tears away, but they were only replaced by new ones. "I can't just . . . I can't just sit by and get everything I want and take everything away from her. Derek I'm ruining her life, she was going to-" Karen chocked, and sobbed, and Derek reached forward to take her hand again. She pulled it away. "She was going to kill herself, because of me!"

She screamed it. Derek knew she couldn't help it, and he could see her body shiver from the pent up rush of adrenaline and emotion. She ran a hand through her hair and attempted to control her breathing, turning away from him and staring out at the dark, empty street.

"I'm sorry," Derek said, truthfully not knowing what else he could do. Her statement wasn't the whole truth, and he knew Karen understood the complexity of the situation as well, but all she could see right now the simple solution, the one that seemed easiest to understand. "I don't really know what to say."

"There's nothing you can say," Karen said. "There's nothing that I want you to say, but I just want someone to talk to that wont instantly feel the need to snuff out my feelings." Karen blinked, trying to wrap her mind around her own words. "I don't want to feel guilty, but wanting to not feel guilty just makes me feel it even more. Because maybe I deserve all those things, maybe I deserve them more than Ivy, but I just can't bare to think that taking any of it would hurt Ivy that much."

"Karen Cartwright," Derek said, taking both her hands in his, and Karen looked straight at him. "You truly are far too kind for your own good."

"Don't," Karen protested, but it was weak, and he could see the faintest of blushes on her cheeks. "That's not what-"

"I know that's not what you want," Derek smiled slightly. "But Karen, Ivy's downward spiral started long before you met her, and you are not the only contributor. If anything, I played a larger role in that than either you or Ivy can see." Karen searched his face as he spoke, face relaxing and tears slowing to a stop. "And you deserve Karen. You really do deserve this part, more than any other woman I've ever met." And more than the look on his face, Karen could feel the double meaning his words carried.

"But what if I don't," Karen whispered. "If we break things off now, we don't have to risk all the anger later, all the disappointment. We won't really have to leave each other." And Derek could see what she meant now, what truly terrified her. She thought he was leaving.

"I'm not leaving you Karen," Derek pulled her closer, and raised his palms to cup her cheeks. "I'm not going to leave you. I won't."

"But how am I supposed to know that?" Karen looked almost utterly terrified, but the strength in her words still overwhelmed him. "One more leading lady and you've got your Marilyn set," Derek flinched slightly at the words, though he knew they weren't an accusation. "How am I supposed to know you won't leave once you've gotten everything you wanted, and you can duck out in the morning?"

"You don't," Derek whispered, and Karen's eyes widened. "You won't know. All I can do is tell you that I won't."

And suddenly, Karen leaned forward, fingers lacing through his, mouth inches from his own. He could feel her breath, warm, against his lips. She breathed the last two words.

"Show me."

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**End scene! Woot, woot! Oh boy, how's this gonna go down? Only time will tell! Thanks so much for reading, and I'll be back shortly with the story's finale!**


	18. Chapter 18

**BACK!**

**That was fast!**

**Hurray for the finale! Right at the beginning of the next season too, I thought it was only fitting. Be on the lookout for my next story, which will be a continuation of this one, and quite possibly include family-meeting, award-winning and possible ring-wearing in the future? I don't know?! Who's really at liberty to say?**

**Disclaimer: This completed story is mine, but noting else Smash is or will ever be.**

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They had barely made it through the door to their hotel room before Karen jumped on Derek, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Surprised by the enthusiasm of the gesture, Derek stumbled, nearly tripping over their freshly discarded shoes and staggering conveniently into the couch. A couch, how truly fitting indeed.

They collapsed onto it, lost in each other's embrace, and by the time Derek's mind cleared he could feel how passionately Karen was kissing him, and he kissing her in return. Before he knew it, she had straddled him, her kisses ghosting their way down his jaw, and she was working methodically down the buttons of his shirt. As he ran his hands through her hair, pulling the luscious waves from each individual pin, he cursed himself that of all days, he'd chosen today to wear this bloody complicated shirt.

Obviously becoming frustrated as well, Karen simply tore the last few buttons, making a noncommittally apologetic noise as she pulled the shirt from his shoulders and placed kisses along the hallow of his throat. Derek followed suit, removing her coat and tossing it aside, running his hands along the smooth skin beneath sweatshirt, an Karen hummed with pleasure. Returning to his lips, Karen ran her hands along his chest, and with surprising speed and assurance, reached down and began to undo the buckle of his belt-

"Woah, Karen," He reached down, grabbing her wrists and smiling against Karen's mouth, but she would have none of it. Pulling her hands from his, she continued her work, and wrapped his hands around hers. "Karen, slow down," He said with a huge smirk, and Karen pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. Her face brilliantly flushed and her pupils dilated, he could feel her heartbeat like a pounding in his own chest. She was absolutely gorgeous.

"You talk to much," She muttered back, each word punctuated by a lingering kiss, and the distraction was enough for his grip to slacken and her to pull her hands free.

"Oh, I do, do I?" Derek laughed, and grabbed her, hugging her to him as he flipped them over so he rested above her. Karen gave a kind of hiccupped cry of surprise, but gave no other reaction as she continued to kiss him, arms wrapped firmly around his neck. For a moment her enjoyed her presence, savored the feeling of her hands in his hair, then he pulled away slightly.

"Now Karen-" He began, but the younger woman slid her hands down his neck, dancing them along his sides.

"Stop talking," She mumbled into his shoulder, the words barely escaping her as a breath, and Derek nearly beamed.

"No Karen wait, listen," He spoke as seriously as he could, staring straight ahead from his position on all fours as Karen continued to plant kisses along his skin. Each point of contact burnt like fire. "I just want to be certain-"

"No, Derek," Karen stopped her work and sat up as best she could, looking at him directly in the eye. Derek's eyes drunk her in. "I don't want any more questions, or any more reservation. I don't want any more scared bird routine." Her eyes bored into his, and Derek blinked several eyes. "People have told me too many times of all the terrible things that will happen if we go through with this, but I honestly don't care anymore. I want them as my friends, but I don't want any certainty, not tonight."

And very slowly, Derek's face broke into the largest grin he had ever worn, and he starred at her nearly open-mouthed. Though her face remained resolute, he could see the flush coloring her cheeks at the wonderful audacity of her words.

"Now," Karen continued, shifting her weight beneath him. "You better kiss me after I've said something like that, because if not, I'm going to be dreadfully embarrassed-"

And just like that, Derek scooped her into his arms, laughing at her cry of surprise and beaming as he laid her down on top of the bed.

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"So," Derek turned his head, looking sideways at the young woman beside him in the early morning light. Lying on her stomach with the sheets pulled up to her waist, she was unimaginable in the soft light emanating through the morning blinds.

"So," Derek repeated, turning onto his side to meet her gaze head on, and she beamed up at him. To his only slight dismay, she pulled the linens up to her chest as she turned to face him, mimicking his position. She beamed at his silly grin, and toyed with the corner of the sheet.

"So I guess we did it, then," She said rather bluntly, obviously feeling slightly awkward, and Derek reached out a hand to smooth a piece of hair from her forehead.

"Yeah," Derek truly couldn't stop smiling, so instead reverted to a more contained smirk. "I guess we did." There was a long, confortable silence, and Derek stroked his thumb down the side of Karen's face. But something was bothering her.

"Did you like it?" Instantly, she flushed a bright red, and her eyes blinked rapidly. "I mean- I just mean was it . . . up to par-"

"Karen Cartwright," He interrupted her, his face an incredulous smirk, and she bit her lip nervously. "If I may say so, that was bloody fantastic." Instantly, both she and him started laughing, Karen rolling onto her back and rubbing her fingers into her eyes, cheeks beet red. Derek, on his part, took the opportunity to inch closer to her.

"Oh thank goodness," She let out between laughs, and glanced at him sidelong. Derek had both eyebrows raised, and she propped herself up onto her elbows.

"Did you honestly think I wasn't going to enjoy it?" Derek asked, unbelieving, and Karen covered her face again in embarassement.

"Well, yes and no. Maybe-" Karen shook her head and rolled away from him, but Derek wrapped his arms around her stomach and pulled her back, turning her body to face him. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "I don't know. I mean, I enjoyed it, but . . ." She sighed happily. "I'm just relieved that you felt the same, is all."

"I enjoyed it immensely darling," Derek ran his hands down her side and Karen squirmed, laughing. There was another glorious silence, and Karen's smile grew wider, if more shy than before.

"And you didn't leave," Karen whispered, and Derek smiled almost proudly. Her voice was rather breathy. "You're still here."

" 'Course I didn't leave," Derek said, and Karen reached out to run a hand through his hair.

"You stayed." She whispered, dropping her hand to run her fingers along his scruff, and Derek whispered in return.

" 'Course I stayed," Derek smiled broadly, and the next words came and went before he knew that he had even thought them. "I love you."

"You love me?" Karen murmured, eyes wider than ever, and Derek knew –without a doubt—that in that moment that he was wholeheartedly, incredibly and inexplicably in love with Karen Cartwright. And it was the most wonderful feeling her had ever know.

"Yeah," He breathed, and his rather stunned expression rose into a soft smile. "Yeah, 'course I am."

"Well what's that supposed to mean," Karen said lightly, but their eyes still gazed at each other more forcefully than could be expressed. " 'Of course you are'."

"I mean," Derek said quietly, knowing how ridiculously cheesy his next line was and truly not caring. He grinned. "I mean bloody hell, how could anyone not be?"

There was a swift silence, then Karen beamed at him in return. "I love you too," She whispered secretively, and Derek knew her silence had not been brought on by uncertainty, but was a statement of her thoughtfulness and sincerity. And so there it was, that was it: Karen Cartwright loved him and he loved Karen Cartwright.

"So," Derek said, shifting slightly and dissipating the fuzzy tenderness of the moment, and Karen smirked at him, letting out a breath of laughter. "Seeing as how I'm still here, you're still here, and the show remains intact around us, seems as though were going to be seeing an awful lot of each other."

"Right," Karen nodded her approval. "I suppose we will."

"And you don't think you'll get tired of me awfully soon?" Derek said, and Karen laughed openly.

"I highly doubt it, Mr. Wills," the younger woman laughed, and rolled over so she was nestled against his side. At this angle, their faces were barely centimeters apart. "It looks like you're stuck with me, for a while at least."

"Yes," Derek beam, and he couldn't be happier. "I guess I am."

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**FIN**

**Woot! Yeah, well that was a fun fluff-filled chapter to end it off with! :D Thank you so, so, so, so much to all the loyal readers, especially the ones reading this now because, wow, you made it this far! Thank you so much for putting up with me! I will be back as soon as possible, see you then!**


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